


(Crash and) Burn

by vaenire



Series: (Crash and) Burn verse [1]
Category: xXx (Movies), xXx: Return of Xander Cage
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Repression, Eventual Fluff, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Smut, Tags to be added, accidental outing of character, eventual angst, somewhere between slow burn and crash and burn, xander's in l- in lo-- he's in l-l- l o- lov-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: “You two would be cute,” she cooed. “You guys could go surfing or something.”“You’ve got me messed up. We fucked, that’s it.”“You make it sound like a one-time deal. I don’t buy it,” she said. “I think fucking is an excuse.”“What?” Xander said, peering across the roof at her. “An excuse for what?”She flashed him a grin. “Physical intimacy.”“Oh, you’re full of shit,” Xander said, grabbing up his binoculars again.





	1. Chapter 1

Xander probably should have seen it coming. He wasn’t ignorant—he knew Xiang was good looking, and he knew that Xiang thought the same about him.

And they’d been circling it for weeks. For months maybe. Hell, maybe even all the way back to that damn island. As far as Xander knew, throwing a grenade at a guy was Xiang’s way of propositioning. Xiang had his own way around things.

But Xander had noticed Xiang’s lingering glances. Xander was used to being ogled. Sometimes there would be lingering touches as they passed, just a hand on his bicep or chest; once there may or may not have been a grab at his ass. That was surprising, but Xiang had been gone the next moment and Xander just grinned and shook it off, looking around the nearest team members to see if anyone else had noticed.

So, no, Xiang didn’t catch Xiang off guard until he sidled up next to Xander in his booth against the side of the bar following the latest successful mission. Xiang usually liked to sit across from someone, so he could watch their movements and have a safe buffer between them 

Now, however, Xiang’s warm body was pressed up against Xander’s side as he put down the two drinks he’d brought with him. He bumped his shoulder against Xander’s, flashing his toothy grin in Xander’s face.  

“You know I don’t drink,” he said, eyeing what Xiang had brought him.

“It’s sprite.” 

Xander raised his eyebrows and looked down at the bubbly drink in front of him, then back to Xiang. Xiang had obviously been drinking more than Sprite, his cheeks shining pink. Despite himself, Xander thought the shade looked good on him.

Xiang bumped his knee against Xander’s, outside of their thighs pressing together. Xiang took a drink of his own glass.

“Is that Sprite too?” Xander asked, taking a sip of the soda.

Xiang’s grin widened. “Yeah."

Xander expected Xiang to lean into him more, or to touch his arm or _say_ something, but aside from the occasional shoulder and knee bumps, Xiang just sat there, content in their silence. Maybe Xander misunderstood the situation.

Xander had to say something. “Pretty close call this time around.” Xander cringed and took another drink of the sprite.

Xiang laughed. “Hell yeah. I live for this shit.” Xiang was passively watching Talon on the dance floor. “It’s good for the others to decompress.”

Xander lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t decompress? Never relax?”

He flashed Xander another wicked grin, the light blush on his cheeks deepening. “Not like this,” he said with a nod to Talon. He pressed his thigh against Xander’s again.

Xander just stared at Xiang, waiting.

Xiang’s smiled faltered minutely.

“Xiang, you’re drunk.”

Xiang scoffed. “I’m not drunk.”

“You’re red.”

Xiang gave him a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “I had a few drinks to loosen up. Decompression, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

His knee jumped against Xander’s, more nervously now than suggestive. “I just had a drink to calm down. You must have pretty low self-esteem if you think a guy’s gotta be drunk to want to sleep with you.”

Xander gaped for a moment. Xiang’s whiplash change of direction left him scrambling to catch up. 

Xiang turned to him, leaning into his face. The grin was gone, his eyes set and hooded. He glanced down at Xander’s mouth for a split second. His lips, Xander noticed, were parted and wet, and god he wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“If you’re interested, you know my room number.”

Xiang stood, taking his drink and downing it as he walked back to the bar, setting the empty glass upside down on the bar. Without another look back at Xander, he exited the bar.

-

Xander wasn’t _supposed_ to know Xiang’s room, but Xiang was right. He did  
  
And he found himself there not a half hour after Xiang left 

He could hear the TV on through the door. Xander knocked hard to make sure Xiang would hear over it.

A few moments passed before he heard the multiple locks on the door being jostled and turned and the door opened to reveal Xiang, wearing only gray sweatpants. He took a look at Xander, a slow smile spreading across his face. He stepped back and nodded for Xander to come in.

The door was closed quickly, the locks replaced.

Xiang turned the television off and sat on his bed, crossing his legs.

“So,” Xander said. He sat beside Xiang, feeling strangely unsure of how to proceed. Luckily, he couldn’t even form the question before Xiang was leaning over to kiss his neck, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips. 

Xiang’s face was warm against his neck as he ran quick kisses from Xander’s shoulder to his ear, nipping there. Xander put his hands on Xiang’s hips, thumbs running in circles. Xiang pressed his chest flat against his, hands skating down his sides to the hem of Xander’s shirt. He bucked his hips, just an inch, but Xander could already feel him, hard in his pants.

God, Xiang was drunk. Xander carded a hand through his hair and pulled him away from his neck.

“Xiang,” he said. “How much did you drink?"

Xiang scowled. “Just enough to take an edge off,” he said, an irritated edge to his voice. His fingers pulled at the end of Xander’s shirt. “We’ve been toeing at this for weeks, Cage. I drank enough to actually do it.”

“We’re not doing this if you’re gonna regret it tomorrow.”

“Oh, fuck off. Just tell me if you’re having second thoughts.” He pulled Xander’s shirt up, fast enough to be intent but slow enough that Xander could have stopped him if he wanted.

When Xander didn’t, he pulled it up, over his pecs and Xander raised his arms to let him pull it the rest of the way off.

Xiang rocked his hips against him as his hands groped the newly exposed skin, over Xander’s back and his pecs and abdomen, vaguely outlining the tiger tattoo on his hip.

Xander laid his hands on Xiang’s hips, pulling him closer and pressing close again as he tasted Xiang’s neck. Xiang tilted his head back and gasped softly, and Xander needed to hear more of that.

“Hands on my shoulder,” he told Xiang as he wrapped his arms around Xiang’s lower back and shoulders. He turned them, getting his own knees and Xiang underneath himself. He let Xiang fall back onto the bed and bracketed his arms on either side of Xiang’s head.

Xiang, eyes bright, ran his hands up and down Xander’s biceps. He leaned up to nip at Xander’s collar bone. One of his hands travelled up over Xander’s shoulder and down to the small of his back, teasing at the top of Xander’s jeans.

A sharp nip on Xander’s collar, he brought both of his hands to Xander’s buckle, undoing it swiftly and pulling it open. He paused, laying back against the pillow with enough space to give Xander a wicked smile before cupping Xander’s cock through the fabric of his jeans.

Xiang pressed the heel of his hand into the curve of his dick, followed by a firm stroke.  

Xander bit down the sound trying to bubble up his throat, threading his fingers into Xiang’s hair and pulling back to bare more of his throat. Xiang’s mouth fell open in surprise, his eyes widening momentarily. He swallowed, making his adam’s apple bob.

His lips were so pretty and wet, and Xander couldn’t tell if he felt the urge to kiss him or put his dick in his mouth. But there was a time and a place for everything. Xander pressed his lips to Xiang’s throat, licking and sucking with the intent to leave a hickey. Broken whimpers escaped Xiang’s mouth and his thighs wrapped around Xander’s waist, his hand squeezing the bulge at the front of his jeans. Xander sucked harder.  

“N-no, no marks, not visible,” he said, shuddering. “Please.” He sounded so gone, giving Xander a rush to think _he_ made Xiang sound like that. He relented and kissed over the thin, abused skin. 

Xander leaned back, keeping his hand firmly in Xiang’s hair, and freed his other hand so he could yank down Xiang’s sweats until his hard dick was freed. He closed his hand around the shaft, earning a shuddering moan.

Xander pet Xiang’s hair before placing his hand square on Xiang’s chest, pressing his back into the mattress. He leaned down to mouth across his collarbone, trailing down over one of his pecs. Xiang’s skin was hot against his mouth, and he squirmed under Xander’s hand, trying to arc up against Xander’s him.

Xiang’s hands had fallen away from Xander’s jeans to the mattress right about the time Xander got his hand on his dick; that wouldn’t do. He squeezed Xiang, just tight enough to get his attention.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Xiang breathed.

“ _Bro_ ,” Xander said, nodding down at his own crotch. Xiang got the hint, pulling at Xander’s pants with frantic hands. He shoved Xander’s briefs down, pulling his dick out and palming at it again.

Xander could feel Xiang’s heartbeat hammering under his hand on the man’s chest, suddenly caught by the urge to feel it under his lips. He readjusted to push Xiang’s shoulder down into the bed instead, pressing his lips to the line between Xiang’s pecs and sucking as he resumed jacking him off 

Xander would like to credit Xiang’s little mewling sounds and his shaking hand on Xander’s dick to Xander’s own finesse, but he knew it was probably more to do with however much alcohol the man had ingested. The breathy little sounds Xiang was making turned Xander on immensely—the sloppy hand job, less so.

Xander kissed along Xiang’s left pec, erring off his path to press his lips just to the side of Xiang’s nipple. He was pleasantly surprised by the high whine it elicited, taking it as encouragement to continue teasing around the nub, pressing quick hot kisses everywhere but directly on it. Xiang clutched at his shoulder, his other hand pausing on Xander’s cock. Xander rolled his eyes, adjusting weight again so he could grind his hips down against Xiang’s. The action wrung a groan from him, followed by a breathless gasp when Xander wrapped his hand around both of them.

Nails bit into Xander’s shoulders when he stroked them together, starting a luxurious pace as he continued teasing Xiang’s chest. Xiang spread his legs, framing Xander’s thighs with his own as he bucked up against Xander’s hand.

Xander paused his hand. “Have any lube?”

Dazed, it took Xiang a moment to process his question. He nodded toward the night stand. “Top drawer.” Xander leaned over and pulled the drawer open, fishing for the lube. He squeezed some out onto his hand and threw it back in the drawer. He took their cocks back in hand and dropped his mouth back to Xiang’s chest, biting the skin just to beside his nipple.

Xiang let out a choked noise. One of his ankles hooked over Xander’s calf and he threw his head to the side. Xander sucked the patch of skin, hand moving faster over their slick erections. Xiang was close, if the tenseness in his thighs or the bitten off moans were any indication. Xander moved to suck a new mark just above Xiang’s nipple.

One of Xiang’s hands pried off of Xander’s shoulder to tease at his own chest, pinching the nipple Xander had ignored and causing Xiang to throw his head back against the pillow and groan. God, that was hot. Xander grabbed Xiang’s hand and pushed it away, replacing it with his own, pinching and tweaking.

“ _Xander_ ,” Xiang gasped, his body tensing up and hips bucking against Xander’s hand helplessly. He arched his chest against Xander’s hand and then he was coming with a hiccupping groan, doubling over off the bed, thighs quivering and spurting over Xander’s hand and his abdomen.

Xander didn’t stop squeezing and sucking his chest and jerking his dick along with his own until Xiang made a pathetic noise at the back of his throat and pushed at Xander’s shoulder. He wiped Xiang’s come on his stomach, his other hand moving from his nipple to comb through Xiang’s hair. He leaned back to take in his sight.

Xiang’s mouth was slack and eyes screwed shut. His chest was heaving and covered in marks from Xander’s attention. God, Xander could definitely do this again if he got this view every time.

Xander took himself in hand again and touched himself the way he liked, tight stroke and wrist twist to palm at the head, encouraged by the way Xiang’s weak grip at his waist. A few more strokes and Xander tipped over the edge, coming over Xiang’s stomach. He took a moment just to breathe, harshly, and bask in the pleasant warmth in his muscles.

Xiang stretched out beneath him. Xander rolled over to lay beside him, leaving a buffer zone between them. Xiang rolled to the edge of the bed and reached for something; Xander only realized it was his own white t-shirt when Xiang started wiping off his stomach with it. He made a scandalized sound as Xiang threw it to the side and rolled back, closing the space between them.

Xander felt himself fading—wondered briefly if Xiang would mind if he stayed. When one of Xiang’s arms stretched, tentatively, across his chest, he figured he’d be fine with it. 

- 

Xiang was gone in the morning. Xander didn’t think about that too much—he slept in rather late, anyway, so it made sense he’d go to get breakfast or whatever. 

He found his shirt, crumpled and come-stained, and his jacket still where it had been discarded by the door. He checked the time to see if he could run to his own room before the hotel’s breakfast closed—he had fifteen minutes. He grit his teeth and looked at himself in the mirror. The night before was only evidenced by the pink marks on Xander’s shoulders from Xiang’s nails.

He pulled on his shirt, discovering that _yeah_ , a dried come-stain was uncomfortable, but he’d have to deal. He pulled on his jacket, relieved to find it covered the stain even while unzipped.

He got downstairs and picked over what was left of the breakfast and sat at a table with Nicks and Tennyson, who were animatedly debating something or other. They didn’t acknowledge him as he sat down.

“You could make a computer model of that, though,” Nicks said as he took a bite of his bagel. His headphones were around his neck, meaning he was invested in whatever their conversation was about. “You don’t need to do it yourself, bro.”

Tennyson waved him off. “You kids never have any real fun these days, always looking at your screens and shit. You know the government can see everything you do on those things. Right, X?" 

“Hm?” Xander said, mouth full of muffin.

“Tennyson, my man, X is not gonna be on your side here. I _met_ Xander through a video game,” Adele chimed in from the table over. “Nicks’ got a point. But really?” Adele stood. “Don’t hold your breath trying to convince him,” she said, nodding at Tennyson.

Tennyson grinned. “You can’t prove anything to a stubborn bastard like me,” he said proudly. Nicks gave him a sideways, unimpressed look.

They returned to bickering between themselves.

Adele stood, coming behind Xander, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning down to whisper in his ear. “What’s up with Xiang today?”

Xander swallowed another bite of his muffin, thinking fast. “He was drinking last night, I don’t know.”

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. “He’s smoking out back,” she said, nodding toward the door that led outside. The back of the hotel opened to a yard before a river bank. “Just letting you know.”

Xander knocked her hands off his shoulders. “Okay?”

She shrugged and turned for the door. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

Xander watched her leave, trying to make his disinterest visible. When she was out of sight, and the boys were too caught up in their conversation to notice Xander again, he glanced at the back door.

Through the glass pain, sure enough, was Xiang standing with his back to the hotel and his hands curled around his mouth, sheltering a cigarette in his mouth. He was wearing a thin black jacket. When he turned to look down the river, Xander could see the thick black shades he was wearing. Mist rolled up the side of the river bank, leaving the ground at Xiang’s feet damp. Fleetingly, Xander wondered what Xiang looked like, just slightly damp from the mist. 

He tore his eyes away, focusing back on his paper plate full of pathetic hotel breakfast foods. Nicks and Tennyson were picking up their plates and throwing it out within a few minutes, so he hurried. They were flying back to the States in the early afternoon.

He made it all the way to his hotel room before he thought to check his pocket for his key. His pocket was empty.

He patted his jean pockets, his back pockets. All empty.

“ _Shit_.”

Xiang was still standing exactly where he had been when Xander returned to the dining room. Xander let the door swing shut loudly, approached him at an angle so that he’d know Xander wasn’t trying to sneak up on him. Xiang was understandably slower in his reactions when he was nursing a hangover, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t lay Xandre on his ass if he was caught by surprise.

“What?” he asked flatly when Xander was still ten feet off. His voice was rough, apparently from disuse.

Xander hummed. “You should drink some water for that hangover.”

Xiang looked at him over his shoulder, and Xander didn’t need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes. “Thanks ma. You’re going to tell me to quit smoking now, too?”

Xander laughed half-heartedly but shook his head.

“Then what do you want?”

“I dropped my key in your room last night.”

Xander could see Xiang’s raised eyebrow. He turned around and rolled out his neck, dropping the cigarette and letting it die on the damp ground. Under his jacket he wore a white button down, which was just barely damp—but enough to show off his muscular chest and the faint outline of the red marks left on his pec. Xander thought to let him know, but decided against it. He didn’t want to piss him off when he needed Xiang to get his key.

Xiang sighed, breathing out his last lungful of smoke. “What room are you? I’ll just bring it to you.”

They walked to the elevator together in silence, Xander getting off a floor before Xiang. He went to wait outside his door, leaning against it casually. Adele was right—something was off with Xiang. The silent elevator ride would usually be filled by friendly jabs or _something_.

Maybe Xiang did regret the night before after all.

He was only standing there a moment before the elevator dinged down the hall and Serena appeared. Her room was a door or two down from Xander’s. She greeted him, raising an eyebrow at how he was waiting outside his own room as she passed by.

As she unlocked her door, Xiang came out of the staircase, brandishing Xander’s key.

Xander took it, ignoring Serena’s eyes on them as he unlocked his door.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Xiang?” he said, nodding into his room.

Xiang, still wearing that revealing damp button down and undoubtedly the same unimpressed expression behind his shades, raised one shaped brow. He glanced at Serena, who was still standing in her own doorway watching them, and nodded to her before following Xander inside.

“What?” he asked, still deadpan.

Xander scrutinized him. “Are you alright, man?”

Xiang curled his lip at him and sneered. “What the hell do you mean?” He turned back to the door to leave, but Xander planted his hand on it.

“Listen, I knew you were _drunk_ , but,” Xander started.

“Are you on that again? I knew what I was doing, Cage.” He shoved Xander’s hand off the door and swung it open. “Fuck off. Take a fucking shower.”

The door slammed behind him.

-

The mission had been an adrenaline-filled one. Xiang, ever eager to show off, even got to show off his skills jumping from exploding cars and out of tenth story windows.

Even with the adrenaline rush coming off the mission, Xander expected Xiang to steer past the bar first, at least. It wasn’t ten minutes after Xander closed his hotel door behind himself that he heard a sharp knocking and found Xiang, still in his dirty leather jacket from the mission, grinning at him.

Xander raised his brows as Xiang pushed past him into the room.

“Xander,” he greeted casually, sitting at the hotel room’s desk. He propped his feet up, leaning back into the seat.

“Xiang.”

Xiang folded his hands over his stomach—the way he sat, the jacket fell away from his hips, letting his tight white shirt outline them nicely. The “v” of the shirt’s neck showed his collarbones. It had been a week or so since they fucked, and Xander wondered absently if the hickeys were still there on his chest.

“What can I do for you?” Xander asked, sitting on the bed across from Xiang, making him crane his neck to look at him.

The edges of Xiang’s smile sharpened. “Well,” he said, putting his feet back on the floor. “A few things come to mind.”

“I can’t imagine,” Xander said stubbornly, letting his voice rumble lowly. 

Xiang stood swiftly and nodded toward the head of the bed; Xander laughed, kicked off his shoes and scooted up the bed. No more _toeing_.

Xiang put one knee on the edge of the bed, his other leg swinging over Xander to straddle his thighs. He planted his hands on Xander’s pecs and squeezed, grinning. Quickly, he moved to the hem of the thin black shirt, yanking it up roughly until Xander sat up so he could pull it off entirely and throw it aside.

He bent over Xander, mouthing over the vein in his neck with soft lips and hot tongue. Xander closed his eyes and let his hands wander under the leather jacket and up the corded muscles of Xiang’s back. He gritted his teeth when Xiang found the sensitive, soft skin behind his ear and nipped.

Xiang could feel his jaw tighten—of course he could—and chuckled low in Xander’s ear.

Xander extracted one hand from Xiang’s shirt and tugged at the collar of his jacket; his hand was caught and pressed into the mattress above his head. He raised his eyebrows, but then Xiang was sucking on that sensitive spot again and his mind was elsewhere again.

Xiang was leaning back, tearing off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head in one swift movement. He let Xander’s gaze rake over his chest as he ground his hips against Xander’s bulge. There were greenish bruises where the hickeys had been. The hand Xiang had pushed away obediently lay on the bed like Xiang left it, but the other reach to cup the cut of Xiang’s hip bone. 

This was rebuked, his second hand joining the first. “Keep them there,” Xiang said, pressing one of his hands over Xander’s crossed wrists, face looming over Xander’s 

Xander huffed a laugh, eyebrows quirked, but complied as Xiang bent to press his lips and teeth over his chest. When Xiang didn’t feel any resistance, he moved both of his hands to undo his own buckle and zipper.

In a moment, both of their dicks were free. Xiang pushed Xander’s jeans about halfway down his thighs, hobbling Xander a bit—but it wasn’t like Xander was trying to move very far. He bucked up against Xiang’s hand as he stroked him roughly, helping him to full hardness.

Xiang leaned up on his knees to push his own pants all the way off before reseating himself on Xander’s lap. He grabbed something out of his pocket before throwing his jeans to the side altogether. He put the condom on the bed beside Xander’s arm and popped open the tube of lube, pouring some over his fingers.

Xander almost let a groan out just at the sight of Xiang rubbing his lube-slick fingers together alone. He gasped in a breath as Xiang reached behind himself, biting his own lip.

He wanted to grab Xiang’s hips, lean up and kiss at his neck or bite a new hickey into his chest, but just watching Xiang’s face as he fingered himself was gratifying enough.

It wasn’t long until Xiang’s attention turned to Xander’s dick, ripping open the condom wrapper and rolling it down Xander’s length and then returning to the lube bottle to pour some over his palm. He worked it down Xander’s length until he bucks his hips, unable to stop himself. 

And then Xiang was shimmying up to straddle Xander’s waist, hand reaching behind himself to line Xander up with his entrance, breathing deep and even as he sunk down on it.

Xander watched his face, taking in every detail. Xiang’s eyes were shut, jaw tense and nostrils flared. His chest rose and fell quickly, betraying his otherwise composed look.

He flexed his arms, considering whether Xiang would protest if he grabbed his hips, helped him ease down onto him. God, Xander needed something to do with his hands.

As if he read his mind, Xiang’s hands reached out, grabbing Xander’s wrists and pushing them down into the mattress again and using that leverage to keep his balance.

Xander bit the inside of his cheek as he was slowly but surely enveloped in the tight, wet heat of Xiang; as he bottomed out, Xander fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He didn’t want to miss a single expression on Xiang’s face.

Taking a moment to adjust, Xiang breathed deeply and evenly, his brows furrowed in concentration. Xander wanted him to _look_ at him, though.

With a shit eating smile, he blew air up into Xiang’s face. Xiang glared at him.

“ _What_?”

Xander looked at him with hooded eyes, biting his lip and obviously looking him up and down, from his dick suspended between their stomachs back up to his dark eyes.

He pulled against Xiang’s grip a bit, just to test. It was unyielding.

“Just wanted your attention, babe. 

Xiang gave him an unimpressed look, and moved his hips. He started slow, the shaft of his cock dragging over Xander’s stomach on each circular movement. And there was a lot to try to take in: Xiang’s focused expression, the rolling of his abdominal muscles, the way his hips moved, the rise and fall of his chest.

He picked up his tempo, Xiang lifting himself further off of Xander’s hips before letting himself slam back down. His mouth fell open, the only sounds being his harsh breathing and the slapping of skin.

A sheen of sweat made Xiang’s skin glow in the low light, and Xander wanted so badly to taste that sweat on his chest and grope at the taut muscles of his arms.

However, the view wasn’t too bad with Xiang stretched over him to keep his hands down.

More than anything, Xander wanted to stroke him in time with his thrusts and feel him unravel ins his fingers. Even watching Xiang touch himself would be good enough. Neither of them, though, had a hand free to pay any attention to his cock, which continued to drag and leak against Xander’s stomach.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Xander breathed. “I promise.”

Xiang considered it for a moment before releasing Xander’s hands and centering his weight over Xander’s hips again. Xander licked his lips, craning his neck to watch the show, and was surprised when instead of taking himself in hand, Xiang leaned back, bracing his hands on Xander’s knees and fucking himself on Xander even harder. 

First of all, Xander realized, this was a game—it had been since Xiang showed up at his door with that catlike grin. The rules, to not touch Xiang, gave Xiang control. And that control was the objective. Riding him like this, holding his arms down and taking what he wanted from Xander, that’s how he kept control.

Xander could play, too, though. If not with his hands, then with his mouth.

“God,” Xander rasped, letting his voice rumble low. “You’re so tight.” He emphasized it with a short, hard buck up into Xiang. Xiang grit his teeth, his spine arching just a degree and an eyebrow lifting.

Xiang’s thighs tightened on either side of Xander’s hips, sharpening his movements to more efficiently grind against that sweet spot inside him.

“You look so good riding my cock like that.”

Xiang bit his lip, looking down at Xander with wide, unfocused eyes, his brows still knit together tightly. Xander rolled his hips up against him again, twice, three times in quick succession and threw off Xiang’s rhythm. Xiang gasped through them, letting out a ragged groan as he adjusted his speed to keep up with Xander. His efficiency failed him, and his arms flailed where they held onto Xander’s thighs, threatening to go out at any moment. 

“Those bruises…” Xander continued, referring to the old hickeys on his chest that should’ve faded by now, “I’m surprised they’re still there. Do you push on them when you touch yourself?” Xander asked, bucking up against his ass harder. “You been thinking about riding me for a while, huh?” he added, voice husky.

Xiang’s eyes widened, gasping when their skin smacked together. _Shit_ , it seemed Xander guessed right. He’d been masturbating and pressing on those bruises, maybe thinking about Xander. Maybe thinking about this exact scenario. Tingly pleasure settled like a rock in Xander’s stomach.

More importantly, control had shifted. Xiang was thrown off his balance.

“I could give you new ones, as a souvenir, you know.” Xander folded his hands under his head smugly. “You’d have to let me touch you, though.”

Xiang bit his lip, scowling at Xander. His rolling hips were less elegant now, messy and erratic.

“Or not,” Xander continued. He coiled the muscles in his stomach tight and sat up, leaning back against his hands. He closed his mouth on Xiang’s collar bone, dragging his wet lips over the area before biting down. Xiang’s breath caught in his throat, his hips stuttering.

He was close, Xander recognized with a warm feeling of self-satisfaction pooling in his chest, pleasure expanding low in his pelvis.

Xander laid back down and Xiang’s hand scrabbled against his chest, pressing down to support himself. Too far gone to protest Xander’s hands resting on his thighs.

“Xiang,” Xander said, thumbs running circles on the outside of his thighs, “touch yourself. Show me how you do it.”

Xiang’s eyes flew open and he stared at him for a moment before taking hastily yhis cock in hand, testing a few strokes that had him biting his free hand.

“No, Xiang,” Xander said, grabbing the hand from Xiang’s mouth and moving it to his chest. “Show me.”

Xander could feel his own climax building as Xiang rocked his hips in tight circles, stroking his cock with one hand and tracing over his own chest with the other. He teased his nipple, squeezing it between his fingers and pulling it lightly before pressing down on the nearest bruise. It wasn’t a light touch, either; Xander could see the skin around the bruise changing color, turning white.

Xiang practically whimpered as he came, hot over his hand and Xander’s abdomen. He rocked through it, until his cock was soft and he was sensitive, and Xander took in every detail.

When Xiang moved to get off of him, Xander caught him behind the knees and held him in place. Xiang peered down at him with surprise; his eyes widened as he felt Xander position his feet flat against the bed.

Xander thrust up into his oversensitive body slow and steady, relishing in the sounds Xiang let out at the overwhelming sensation. No matter the overstimulation, Xiang stared right into Xander’s eyes and god, he was so close, just grinding against his ass and hearing him would be enough to send him over, let alone maintaining his searing gaze.

A rumbling groan escaped him as he thrust up one more time, hard and deep, and came. “ _Fuck_.”

As soon as his hands fell away from Xiang’s knees, Xiang was swinging his leg off of Xander and standing, stretching his arms over his head. He gathered up his clothes and went into Xander’s bathroom.

Xander was asleep before Xiang left.

-

Comm silence wasn’t something the team did well, but it was something that the mission to Durban required.

They were tracking a rumor of some scientist cooking up a new, deadly contagious virus with plans to release it on the world for some agenda or the other.

So, while Talon and Hawk check out the streets and Becky holes up in a shitty hotel near the outskirts of town doing research on the lead, Adele and Xander keep watch from above. They’d lost contact with Xiang and Serena some time ago, but there was nothing to worry about. Not yet.

The heat of the day was grueling on the rooftop they staked out, and the silence made the time pass slowly. Finally, after hours of absolutely no action, Adele turned to call to Xander across the roof.

“Xander, when was the last time you were on a date?”

Xander didn’t respond for a moment, taking his time to set down the binoculars. “What?”

“Y’know, like going out to the movies or something.”

Xander scoffed. “You take me for a movie-going type?”

She laughed, short and harsh. “You’re right. Bungee jumping or some shit? Riding motorcycles on car hoods going the wrong way in traffic?”

“Nah, I don’t do dates anymore.”

Adele hummed. “Maybe it would be good for you.”

Xander let that hang for a moment. “Those girls are making you soft, Adele.”

“Yeah?” Adele called. “Serena told me she saw you and Xiang back in Budapest.” She peered back through the sight on her rifle. “We all had a bet on when you two would finally fuck.”

Xander made an indignant sound in the back of his throat. _Damn it Serena_.

“You two would be cute,” she cooed. “You guys could go surfing or something.”

“You’ve got me messed up. We fucked, that’s it.”

“You make it sound like a one-time deal. I don’t buy it,” she said, adjusting her scope. “I think fucking is an excuse.”

“What?” Xander said, peering across the roof at her. Her gaze stayed concentrated through the scopes, adjusting to follow Hawk’s movements. “An excuse for what?”

She rested the butt of her rifle against her armpit to flash him a grin. “Physical intimacy.” She barked out another sharp laugh.

“Oh, you’re full of shit,” Xander said, grabbing up his binoculars again.


	2. Chapter 2

Adele didn’t know what she was talking about, but her comment bothered Xander for some reason. It crawled right under his skin and wouldn’t leave him alone all day.  

She was full of shit, like he’d said. He knew she was.

That’s why he was knocking on Xiang’s door: to prove that she was. Prove it to himself, mostly, but still.

Xiang answered clad in his sleep pants, just like the first time. He raised an eyebrow at Xander but stood back to let him in. The TV was on again.

Xander immediately sat on the bed, taking in the shitty hotel room. In the low light of the TV, he could see Xiang grin.

“Let me just,” he said, nodding to the bathroom. Xander nodded, of course. He palmed himself through his pants absently.  _ Physical intimacy _ . He mentally scoffed.

Xiang took a moment in the bathroom, longer than Xander expected, but came out naked, a condom and lube in one hand. Xander felt silly, feeling his own lube and condom package in his pocket. Should’ve known Xiang would be fully prepared.

“So how are we doing this,” Xiang asked, leaning a knee against the bed beside Xander. His tone was hushed, sending a thrill through Xander.

Xander surveyed the room. There was a desk against the wall across from the foot of the bed. He gestured to it, and Xiang grinned as he followed his direction.

He went over and sat on its edge, spreading his legs alluringly and licking his lips. He set the condom and lube beside his hand as he leaned back on his palms. Xander followed him in a heartbeat, spreading Xiang’s thighs and pressing them against his thick hips. He glanced to the TV, still blaring some local news station.

“Leave it,” Xiang breathed. “Sound cover. These walls are shit and Talon’s in the next room over.”

One of Xiang’s hands splayed over Xander’s chest, groping as he tilted his head to the side, enticing Xander to press his mouth against the cord of muscle that the stood out. He felt along the edge of the desk for the lube, impatient.

When he popped it open, Xiang pressed against his chest. “I already prepped,” he said breathily. When Xander gave him a doubtful look, he added, “What did you think I was doing in the bathroom?”

Xander grinned, backing up to pull of his shirt and open his jeans, push them down to his mid-thigh and grabbing the condom. See, fingering was  _ intimate _ , and it was something they  _ didn’t do _ . Adele had no idea what she was talking about.

Xander rolled the condom on, lubed up his dick and grabbed the underside of Xiang’s thighs, pulling his legs up off the ground suddenly and letting Xiang scramble for a hold on the desk. He hooked one of Xiang’s legs over his shoulder—the man was flexible enough, Xander knew—and reached down to line himself up with Xiang’s hole.

He pushed in, steady and sure, and Xiang his lip hard, letting his head fall back. He gave Xiang a moment when he finally bottomed out before pulling near all the way out and slamming back into him. The desk knocked against the wall and Xiang’s head lolled even further back, biting off a moan. Xander set a hard pace, the desk ramming against the wall on nearly every thrust. 

Xiang shifted, the leg over Xander’s shoulder flexing as he leaned back on the desk. The angle let him push back against Xander’s hips.

Xander groped at Xiang’s built chest with his free hand, feeling the way his body jolted with each thrust. He felt the coiled tension in his abs as he was fucked. On his collarbone, Xander was pleased to find small welts from his bite last time. The bruises had faded, unfortunately.

He teased Xiang’s nipple under his thumb, smirking at how it made Xiang squirm, his hips stuttering as he pushed back against him. It provoked something deep and possessive in Xander, and he growled, dropping his hand flat against the desk and pressing against Xiang’s thigh until he was flat on his back on the desk’s surface, knee pressed to his own chest.

Xander slid in just right to earn a loud moan, Xiang’s hands grasping at Xander’s biceps.

“Shh,” Xander said as he adjusted his hips again, becoming deep and short, pulling out a few inches to slam back into his ass.

Xiang bit his lip hard, his eyebrows worrying together and eyes squeezing shut.

The new angle made the sound of the skin slapping together that much louder, clear even over the sound of the TV. Xander gripped Xiang’s thigh sharply with one hand, the other weaving into Xiang’s hair. Xiang’s nails were digging into his biceps tightly. He could feel his blood pumping under Xiang’s grip.

Xander pressed down onto him again, Xiang’s thigh trapped between their chests, to bite at his earlobe. “Keep quiet,” he reminded him sardonically.

Xiang groaned, biting it off halfway.

Xander moved his mouth down his throat, mouthing over the curve of his shoulder. One of his hands scrambled to find purchase on Xander’s torso, pawing at his waist until he used his nails there, too.

The room was filled with the sounds of Xander’s skin slapping Xiang’s ass, the wet sounds of Xander’s mouth on his throat, and Xiang’s harsh breathing. It was growing shallower and faster by the second, and Xander could feel the tenseness growing in his body, his nails digging in impossibly further—Xander worried about them breaking skin briefly—and his heels pressing down on his shoulder and lower back unyieldingly.

Xander was reaching between them to take him in hand when Xiang gasped brokenly, coming hard on their stomachs and chests.

Surprised, Xander’s pace slowed, leaning back to look over Xiang’s body; he was breathing fast, trying to catch up with his racing heart, and his face was flushed a nice red. His cock twitched against his stomach, still weeping as Xander grinded against his ass.

He came without being touched.  _ Jesus _ . That possessive fire burned inside him, and he slid his hips back again for longer strokes, fucking him in earnest once more. With Xiang’s body wound tight from his orgasm, it didn’t take Xander long to finish, slamming home and biting down hard on Xiang’s throat, riding the high and fucking him hard until he all but collapsed on top of Xiang.

He let Xiang’s leg slide down, felt him stretch it absently as Xander caught his own breath. He kept his hand at the back of Xiang’s head.

“I thought I said,” Xiang panted, “no visible marks.”

Xander hummed, turning his head to kiss at the smooth skin he’d bit just a moment before. He could feel the indents from his teeth under his lips. He pressed more kisses along the row of indents. He knew it wouldn’t actually leave a  _ mark _ , but…

_ Physical intimacy _ . Adele’s knowing voice drifted into his head again. He pulled away from Xiang’s neck, clearing his own throat.

He moved off Xiang, standing up and rolling his shoulders. Xiang let his feet find the ground and stretched his arms over his head. Xander pulled his pants up and found his shirt again as Xiang pulled sweats on and went to the slider door for a smoke. 

Xander patted his pockets,making sure he had his keys and everything he needed this time. He looked at himself in the hotel room mirror, and even in the low blue light from the TV he could see welts forming on his forearms where Xiang had dug his nails in. He glanced at Xiang’s back. 

“Xiang,” he called, making sure his voice was low and even. Xiang looked at him over his shoulder. “Uh, see you tomorrow, then.” 

Xiang gave him a long look, like he was going say something, but after a moment he just nodded. “See ya.” 

Xander nodded and left. 

-

A tip in Durban led the team to Lagos. Xander and Xiang located a contact who allegedly knew where the viral lab was located and the meetup went smoothly, in a little cafe in a nice neighborhood outside the city center. Until some trigger-happy lackeys started a fire fight and they were suddenly climbing out the window to escape. 

“Adele, can you read me?” Xander said, praying they were within range again. 

“Yeah Cage, where are you guys?” 

“A building on 7th, west wall of the fourth floor.” 

“Mm, I think I see it.” 

“Send me the coordinates,” Becky chimed in. “We’ll extract you guys.”

Xiang was examining a door blocking their way toward the next roof, Xander glancing out a window at an angle, peering up toward the roof that Adele was scoping the streets from. 

He was interrupted by the sounds of shuffling from the direction they had come from. 

“Xiang!” Xander called. The door was kicked open and two men with rifles up appeared in the threshold. “Xiang, get that door open!”

Xander rushed the first man, slamming his fist into his stomach and sending him reeling backwards. He grabbed at the guy’s vest and swung him around, head crashing against the wall. 

“Xiang,” he called, low and impatient. He glanced in Xiang’s direction, dodging a perceived swipe from the second thug. 

Xiang had managed to bust the door open, and was gesturing for Xander to come along. 

His eyes darted to Xander’s right, “ _ Xander! _ ”

A gunshot and a sharp pain in Xander’s side made his vision go black momentarily, and he fell to the side against the wall.  _ Fuck _ . 

The brunt of the pain passed in a few seconds, and he blinked away the blackness at the edges of his vision. Xiang had appeared at his side, face set stiffly but his eyes wide with something like concern. The second thug was out cold on the ground. 

“Get up,” he said. “We have to get to the roof.”

Xander nodded, shaking off the bit of delirium from the sharp pain in his back.

Xiang flanked Xander as they went through the door onto the roof, urging him to move quicker as they could hear more shuffling footsteps closing in on them, likely their first two friends’ reinforcements. 

“Becky,” Xiang said into his comm piece. “Where the hell are you?” Xiang touched Xander’s hip, his body language suggesting they move away from the door, toward the edge of the roof. 

“Where are  _ you _ ?” came Becky’s response. “I don’t see you.”

“What do you  _ mean _ ? We’re on the roof.” 

“I see them,” Adele chimed in. “You’re on the wrong roof.” 

Xiang hissed in aggravation and said, “Xander’s shot, what do you want me to do?” 

Xander would’ve inserted some wisecrack or protest here if he couldn’t sense how tense Xiang was. 

A beat of silence. “Isn’t he wearing that bullet proof vest?” 

“It was close range. He might have a broken rib.”

The reinforcements were close; Xander could hear their shouting coming ever nearer to the roof. 

“We have to get you two out of there,” Becky said, more to herself than anyone else. 

“You have friends,” Adele said.

“I don’t need to know the  _ obvious _ , thanks,” Xiang sniped. “I need ideas.” 

“Jeez,” Adele muttered. Three  _ zip _ s from a silenced rifle, and three men fell in the doorway leading to the roof. “You’re welcome.”

Xander saluted, not knowing where she was but hoping she saw the sarcastic gesture. 

“Ha.” 

-

“This needs to be checked out,” Becky said as she examined Xander’s back. “This really, really needs to be checked out.” 

Serena was gently smoothing over the angry red bruise with disinfectant, careful of the tenderized flesh. Xander grit his teeth. 

“I’m fine,” he managed. 

“You are not fine,” Becky said quickly, silencing him. “You can’t see it but you are not fine. There’s no way you’re continuing on this mission. You have to go to a hospital and get an x-ray and let this heal.” 

“Becky,” Xander started, but Serena peered at him, giving him some kind of  _ look _ that obviously meant  _ something _ . 

“She’s right,” Serena said. 

“Not you too…”

Serena pressed her hand against Xander’s back and he hissed sharply, jerking away from her. 

“Something’s broken,” Serena said matter-of-factly. “And besides, I don’t think Becky can function through her anxiety if you don’t get checked up. Between brains and brawn,” Serena said. “We can’t sacrifice any of our brain. You’re out, Cage.”

-

Nothing was broken, as it turns out, but Xander was still sent home to LA. It was bullshit, but Serena had been right-- Becky was an important aspect of the mission and Xiang and the others could more than make up for Xander’s absence. 

Two days after Xander was sent home, a doorbell interrupted Xander’s videogame; he paused it and put his controller down, waiting for another ring. Only then did he get to his feet, making his way slowly to the door. He peered out the hole and grinned when he saw Xiang standing at his door, wearing a leather jacket and shades. 

He let him in silently, waiting for some explanation as Xiang took off his jacket. Xander was sure he hadn’t told anyone where his apartment was. 

“Becky wanted someone to make sure you were taking care of your wound.” 

Xander scoffed, “And she just happened to send you?”

“I’m the only one trained for gunshot wound first aid.” Xiang took off his shades, folding them over the neck of his shirt. “Take your shirt off.” 

Xander did so, if a bit stiffly. The bruised and ugly flesh, still red and purple, was more sore than anything by now-- though Xander wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with the painkillers. There had been an open wound, which Xander knew he wasn’t being kind to as he refused to stop moving and let it  _ heal _ . 

Xiang examined it, pushing Xander’s hips to guide him into better lighting.

“Do you have any gauze?” he asked. “This should be covered. Have you been icing it?” 

“Occasionally,” Xander said vaguely. “The gauze is in the bathroom.” 

Xiang waited for Xander to lead him there, bending down to the bottom drawer on the vanity where the first aid supplies were.

Xiang had Xander lean over the edge of the sink as he painstakingly cleaned the wound-- tutting about how Xander had reopened it with whatever “dumb shit” he’d been doing holed up in his apartment-- before rolling the gauze around and around his torso. 

Xander watched Xiang in the mirror: the way he passed the roll around the front of Xander’s waist, keeping his eyes focused on Xander’s back. This was definitely the longest amount of time-- in recent weeks-- that they’d been alone together without either of them making some kind of move. 

Which is why Xander’s mind wandered as he watched, imagining Xiang wrapping his hands around his waist and kissing his neck. Maybe grinding against his ass a bit. And Xander would turn around and push him straight back against the wall, bite at his neck-- without leaving marks-- and his earlobe until Xiang was panting. He could push his shirt up under his arms and grope his chest, and bite there… 

Xiang tucked the end of the gauze into the folds and stood behind Xander. He looked at Xander in the mirror over his shoulder, hands falling to the counter on either side of Xander’s hips. But he didn’t touch. Just leaned up to Xander’s ear. 

“Bedroom?” 

“Hell yeah.”

As soon as they were in Xander’s room, Xiang’s hands were on his hips, sliding down into his pants and squeezing his ass roughly with both hands. Xander jumped a little in surprise, but gave an appreciative laugh as Xiang mouthed at his collar bone. He grabbed a handful of Xiang’s hair and placed his hand on Xiang’s slim waist. 

Xiang was unbuttoning his pants and crowding into Xander’s space, shoving him backwards toward the bed. He was so obvious that Xander had to laugh again, but it was cut off sharply as in the next moment Xiang was shucking his pants down to his knees and shoving Xander down onto the edge of the bed. A sharp pain emanated from his lower back, but Xander ignored it to kick his pants the rest of the way off and sit up, waiting for Xiang to straddle him. He wondered if Xiang prepped himself ahead of time again. 

Xiang pulled off his own shirt, throwing it on the ground and nodding for Xander to back up a bit. Once he complied, Xiang pushed his thighs open and settled his knees between them. Xiang grabbed Xander’s chin and pushed his head to one side, mouthing over Xander’s pulse point with the barest hint of teeth. Xander’s head spun. 

A possessive spark settled in Xander’s chest even as he floundered for what to do-- where to put his hands and whether to spread his legs or wrestle Xiang under him. 

Xiang grabbed his thigh, hitching it up against his hip and forcing Xander’s center of balance back so that he had to brace his hands on the bed. Xiang’s knee slid under Xander so their legs slotted together, his jeans rubbing against Xander’s bare inner thigh.

He leaned his head down to bite at Xander's pec and elicited a soft gasp as his hand not gripping Xander's thigh slid between their legs and palmed Xander's dick. 

The angle that Xander was leaning back at was hot but difficult, and the strain punched at his bruised back. He hissed quietly, readjusting how his arms were braced behind himself to alleviate some of the stress. 

Xiang leaned back, then, to look at Xander’s face. He looked serious, as if he’d just realized Xander was injured. “We don’t have to, if you’re really hurt.”

Xander squinted at him, then down at his hand that was fondling Xander through his underwear, squeezing his rapidly hardening cock. When Xiang (willfully) didn’t follow, Xander grumbled unhappily. “Fuck you.”

“Actually,” Xiang said smugly, leaning in to bite Xander’s earlobe. “I was thinking something different.”

A shiver ran through Xander, his face heating immediately. His mind raced for something clever to say; something that could double as an excuse to back out would be ideal.

Xiang sucked behind his ear and Xander couldn’t think.

“No smart comment?”

“I,” Xander bit off his half formed thought. “I can’t lay on my back.”

Xiang hummed. “I didn’t take you for a missionary type, anyway.” He hitched Xander's thigh higher, just because he could. 

Xander hadn't done  _ this _ for a long time. He considered telling Xiang so-- but they weren't the kind to share those details. Detail sharing was… intimate. 

“You want it or not, Cage?” Xiang said, voice low and breath hot against Xander's ear. 

Did he? There was a kind of rush from being pushed down on his bed and his legs spread wide, and the heat in his chest and head and pelvis certainly felt nice. Yeah, he wanted it. 

His heartbeat thrummed against his ribs as Xander nodded. He could feel Xiang grin against his throat.

“Turn over,” he demanded quietly. 

Xiang stood, giving Xander space to turn over and grab a pillow, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees. He could hear Xiang pulling own pants off and throwing them aside.

“Lube?” 

“Night stand.”

He heard Xiang open the drawers, rustling through the content before  the bed dipped again. He heard the lube being poured, tensing in anticipation. The lube bottle was thrown to the side, one of Xiang’s hands roughly sliding into his boxers and pulling them down to his thighs. He grabbed one of Xander’s cheeks and spread it, exposing him and sending a shock through Xander’s body as two of his fingers teased as his entrance. 

One finger pressed in slowly. Xander shifted his knees, focusing on not moving away from the intrusion. Xiang pulled back to just the tip, pressing against Xander’s walls teasingly, and poured more lube over where they connected. He pressed his again, all the way inside.

Xander grit his teeth against the discomfort, breathing shallowly even though he knew it didn’t help. Before he could acclimate to it, Xiang was pulling out again, all the way to the tip, and Xander braced for another finger. He was surprised by Xiang just pushing his one finger in again. Xiang kept that up, slowly pulling back to just his fingertip and pushing all the way back inside. 

It wasn’t quite  _ good _ yet, but it wasn’t unpleasant by the time he poured more lube on his fingers and pressed two in. His other hand stroked up and down Xander’s thigh, dragging his short nails against his skin. 

After some time, after Xiang was able to thrust two fingers into him with ease, Xander could feel him lining up a third finger. The burn was starting to be pleasant, and Xander all but forgot that he’d been hesitant before. 

The third finger slid in, just the tip, and Xiang paused for him to get used to it. When he pushed inside again, he paused halfway to stretch two fingers against his walls and curl his middle finger until he found the bundle of nerves that made Xander groan aloud. He toyed with it, finger circling but just barely glancing off, until Xander gave a frustrated huff and pushed back against his hand.

“Hah,” Xiang said. “This what you want?” he said, pressing all three of his fingers down suddenly.

“ _ Fuck _ .” 

Too soon, his fingers were removed and Xander was left waiting, listening to Xiang tear open the condom and lube himself up. Xander took the moment to pull his boxers the rest of the way off.

Xiang ran his hand down Xander’s side from his shoulder, fingertips lingering over his ribs, before settling on his hip. His other hand gripped Xander’s ass, pinching and making Xander hiss in annoyance before leaving Xander’s body to line up his dick. 

Xander grasped the pillow preemptively when he felt the tip of Xiang’s cock press against his entrance, a punched out gasp escaping him as he pushed inside. He slid in slowly, his hold on Xander’s hip bruising and somewhat distracting him from the relentless stretch around Xiang.

The air was hot and full of Xander’s strained breathing when Xiang bottomed out, his hips flush against Xander’s ass. Xiang nipped at the wing of his shoulder blade beside his spine and his free hand reached around-- not to touch Xander but rest on his lower abdomen, just inches from Xander’s flagging erection. That warm possessiveness in Xander’s ribs fluttered at the dominant gesture. 

Xander was given a moment to get his breathing under control before Xiang gave a testing, shallow thrust that earned him a surprised groan. He was still getting used to the sensation and stretch, but it felt  _ good _ . Weird, but good. 

He spread his legs wider at Xiang’s encouragement, his knee pressing against Xander’s inner thighs. 

Another shallow thrust glanced against his prostate and Xander bit back the pathetic sound he almost let out. Xiang knew-- of course he knew-- that he hit that spot and tightened his grip on Xander’s abdomen until his lower back was pressed back against Xiang. He thrust in again and just barely touched that spot again. Xander pursed his lips against the whine forming in his throat.

The hand on his hip moved to his shoulder, placing part of Xiang's weight on Xander's arms as he started up a slow but inexorable rhythm, pulling out further every few thrusts to slam all the way home. He adjusted his hips between two of his deep strokes and suddenly he was stroking solidly against that  _ spot _ on the thrust in. 

Xander’s arms wanted to go out, and he wanted to smother his face in the pillow to conceal his reactions. Once again it was like Xiang could read his mind as he was pushing down on his shoulder until he gave in, resting his cheek against his forearms. 

Xiang leaned back and centered his weight over his knees again, letting Xander arch his back. He palmed Xander’s ass, pinching the soft area between his hip and the gauze wrapping before driving into him again, harder and faster. Xander bit his lip and arched his ass back against Xiang, who clapped a hand down on Xander’s flank and made him jump. 

Xiang bent over him again, mouthing at a notch in Xander’s spine. Xander curled a hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm in an attempt to keep that voice in his head at bay.  _ This… this wasn’t physical intimacy. They were just getting off together and that was it.  _

Which reminded him-- Xiang still hadn’t  _ touched _ him. He reached one of his hands under himself, just to get a little friction. He moaned as he closed his hand around himself, starting to stroke, but Xiang grabbed his wrist quickly. 

“No,” he said. His voice was husky and dangerously low. He put Xander’s hand down on the mattress, leaning his weight onto Xander’s wrist and continuing to kiss and nip along Xander’s spine, moving up to suck at his neck with his chest pressing down on Xander’s back. It stressed his bruise, but that sharp contrast to pleasure just added to the  _ rush  _ of being fucked. 

Xiang moved his hand up from his abdomen, groping at his torso until it was barred across Xander’s chest, palming one of Xander’s broad pecs. He mouthed at the skin behind Xander’s ear. He dropped Xander’s wrist, moving to push down against Xander’s lower back until he was flat on the bed with his cock trapped between the mattress and his stomach. Then he grabbed Xander’s hand again to place on the back of Xiang’s own head where he wrapped his fingers in Xiang’s hair. 

He straddled Xander’s hips, thrusts becoming short and hard against Xander’s ass, ramming him against the bed and making his hand clutch roughly at Xiang’s silky hair. Xander reached his other hand out to get some leverage against the wall and pushed back against Xiang’s on each thrust. 

Xiang was hitting that spot on nearly every thrust, angling his hips to elicit rasping grunts from Xander on every tight stroke. He pressed messy hot kisses up Xander’s neck and shoulders. Xander was so  _ close _ .

Xiang reached under Xander and closed his hand around Xander’s dick. He didn’t stroke him yet, just held him there. Xiang moved his knees under himself, his movements turning into tight grinding against Xander’s ass. Xander closed his eyes tight, ready to let his orgasm wash over him.

Xiang’s other hand, still firm across Xander’s chest, snaked further under him and grabbed his jaw, shoving so he faced Xiang where he had left off kissing Xander’s neck.

Before Xander could react, Xiang’s soft mouth was pressed against his chapped lips, dragging over each other inelegantly as their panting breaths and low grunts were caught between them. Xander froze, eyes wide and unfocused. That warm possessive feeling surged, unbearable heat spreading all over Xander’s body. 

Xiang stroked him, tight and fast, in time with his grinding. His mouth fell open on a gasp and Xiang pressed it to his advantage, sliding his hot tongue along the inside of Xander’s lower lip.

Xander saw stars as he came, Xiang swallowing his high keen with his hand tightening in Xiang’s hair. His body rocked from Xiang’s unrelenting grinding and stroking.

Xiang bit Xander’s lip when he came, his hand tightening on his jaw and arm clenching tight around Xander’s chest. Up till that moment, Xiang had been careful to avoid putting pressure on Xander’s wound, but it slipped his mind in the moment of ecstasy. Xander pulled back from the kiss to hiss a cuss in the space between them.

Xiang jolted to the side away from the bruise, but still didn’t back off, his hips still pressed tight against Xander’s ass. He sighed eventually, moving off Xander and stretching out over him, cracking his back and pulling off the condom. Xander stayed right where he was, letting the pleasant fucked out feeling spread through his limbs and the warmth dissipate as he caught his breath.

Xiang got up, going out of the room to wherever. Only when he knew he was gone did Xander roll over to his good side and rub over his face.

_ That just happened _ , he thought.  _ All of that _ .

His ass was going to be sore, and his knees might’ve taken a toll from that position, and his wound certainly wasn’t better for it, but… Xander self consciously touched his mouth. The sensation of Xiang licking and biting lingered.

He didn’t look up when Xiang came back into the room; he’d left his clothes on the floor, and Xander didn’t want to make it awkward by watching him redress. He stayed still-- maybe Xiang would think he was asleep. 

He was surprised when Xiang set something down on the nightstand behind him before circling around the bed with a wet towel, ignoring Xander’s face to wipe at his stomach and the stain in the sheets. He threw the towel off toward the bedroom door and laid down on his side of the bed. Xander gave him a questioning look. 

“I just flew in, I don’t have a room yet,” Xiang explained shortly. “I could find one if you don’t want me staying…” 

Xander shrugged.

“There’s water and painkillers,” Xiang continued, nodding to the nightstand. 

Xander gave a quiet thanks and sat up to take the pills and down the glass. This was-- nice. Of course Xiang was primarily there to check his wounds, but he didn’t really need to do anything beyond that that he didn’t want to. Xander could’ve gotten his own meds. 

He laid back on his good side, facing Xiang, whose eyes were already closed and breathing was slowed. It was early evening, so the light filtering through the thin curtains illuminated him in yellow. 

That possessive feeling returned once again-- but now Xander wondered if it was  _ possessive _ , really.

_ Nope, nope. It doesn’t matter. _

And once again, he was plagued by Adele:  _ Physical intimacy _ . 

What did that mean, really? What they were doing was physical, obviously. And there was some intimacy. They were getting to know each other’s bodies, what they liked, what the other really got off on. But… intimacy between partners, or comrades or whatever they could call themselves, it was natural. That’s all it was. Physical intimacy through fucking was all it was. Just two guys helping each other out.

Xander had fucked other attractive guys. Xiang was a little different. Nothing else to it. Not different in the  _ intimate _ way that Adele thought. Xander didn’t mind not putting a name on it. It was different just because it was  _ Xiang _ . 

Xiang, who was always in control. Xiang was in control of this, and he’d let Xiang make any of the decisions-- he certainly decided when and how they fucked, even when Xander  _ thought _ he was in charge. So if Xiang wanted to fuck, they would; if he wanted to kiss, they would; if he wanted to end this-- whatever “this” was-- then they’d end it. 

If that kiss meant anything, that was on Xiang’s side. On Xander’s side, he could keep feelings out of it. 

(However, deep down, he hoped Xiang didn’t want to end it. And he hoped he could get another kiss, sometime, too.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was supposed to be more plot build up in this chapter but! guess not! i saved it for next chapter for the sake of making chapters approximately the same length lmao


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander was never going to tell Adele about this.

Only a week passed before Xander was at the gym again, the ache in his back peripheral at worst, and the team was deployed again. It was a slow, elaborate undercover gig that Gibbons set them up, including a very involved set of fake identities. 

Didn’t prevent the team from taking the slow evening to hit the gym, of course.

Talon and Hawk were already on weight machines when Xander entered the weight room, heading over to the straight bars to set himself up.

“You need a spotter, X?” Talon called to him. Xander looked up in time to see Hawk cringe at Talon’s precarious usage of Xander’s  _ real _ nickname while they were supposed to be undercover.

After their months working together, he’d noticed that Talon really wasn’t good at keeping lowkey. (For the mission, knowing his bleached hair stood out, he had dyed it dark purple, as if that were more subtle.)

Xander shrugged, but Talon had already hopped off his machine and was halfway to him. 

Talon stretched his legs as Xander got situated on the bench, moving into position as he started his sets.

His muscles burned pleasantly by the end of the second set of presses, and he set the bar in its place to rest before the next one. He focused on his breathing, shaking out his hands. He could hear someone beating on the punching bag, and glanced in that direction.

Xiang had appeared while he was focused elsewhere, apparently, and was practicing some quick kicks on the mat.

When he put his hands back on the bar, signaling to Talon he was ready to go again, Talon kept his eyes on Xiang for several moments more; he almost looked concer. Xander raised a brow up at him, but Talon shrugged it off.

Xander pushed through the third set, his muscles protesting at the last few repetitions. He grunted through them, setting the bar down heavily.

The protesting of the punching bag came back to the forefront of Xander’s attention.

“X, you need a break?” Talon asked. “Boss looks like he needs someone to hold that for him.”

“Go ahead,” Xander said. He sat up, reaching one arm over his head and pulling the elbow over to really get that stretch.

His arms were tired, and he knew he was done with the bar for now. He glanced over at Xiang, only for a moment lest he accidentally make eye contact. The machines-- where Hawk was still working-- faced the punching bags…

He adjusted the seat on the machine beside Hawk, checked the weight. Hawk paid him no mind, concentrated on the chest presses and whatever spot on the wall he chose to focus on.

Xander tried to find a particularly interesting spot, too, but his eyes were drawn back to Xiang as he cycled through his different moves-- Xander made a valiant effort to pretend that the view wasn’t why he chose this particular machine, glancing casually around himself.

He finished a set, letting the weight clank down as he took a breather. Xiang was punching the bag now, hard enough that Talon had to take a step back and brace a foot behind himself.

Xander could see Hawk watching them too, considering them. Xander wondered what he was thinking.

Xander had seen Xiang practice before, but this was different. More raw. This wasn't about technique or skill. Xiang wanted it to burn in his fists and arms.

Xander was familiar with such a feeling.

\--

It was three days more before the team was back out celebrating their win with music and alcohol.

Xander sat back in the corner of the club, avoiding gazes. He was keeping an eye out for Xiang.

“Mr. Cage,” a waitress said, bending over to set a drink on the table in front of him. It was clear. “From a Mr. X.” She slid a card under the glass.

She turned and left, returning to serve other guests. Xander raised his brow, bringing the glass up to his nose to sniff—didn’t smell like alcohol. Smelled sweet. He placed it back down and grabbed the card.

It was a business card written in French.

Neatly written across the back, “ _ Room 212.” _

Xander smirked. So that’s where Xiang was. He picked the glass back up and took a small sip, just to see what it was.

Sprite. Fucking Sprite.

Xander smiled despite himself, and drank it. Sprite in a shot glass. Fucking Xiang. He surveyed the club floor again, spotting Adele chatting up a chick at the bar, Nicks leaning in next to the DJ at the turntable.

No one noticed him ducking out a side door into the hall leading back to the hotel rooms.

\--

No TV this time. Xander tried the handle and found it open.

It was dim inside, the ceiling light muted by the dark light shades put over it.

The room wasn’t particularly big, but it had a king bed and an attached bathroom, where it sounded like Xiang was.

Xander closed the door loudly behind himself, locked it, and sat on the bed. As he observed the other details of the room-- long red drapes over the window, a closet door on one side-- he noticed the large mirror on the ceiling above the bed.

Kinky.

“Took you long enough,” Xiang said when he appeared in the bathroom’s doorway, leaning against the frame. He was wearing sweats, his hips jutting out over their elastic waist.

Xander was overcome by that possessive-- that  _ yearning _ , rather-- feeling, and surged up, crowding Xiang back against the door frame and laying his hands on those enticing hip bones.

Xiang chuckled, tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck to Xander’s wet kisses.

Xander ran his hands over the fabric of the sweats, reaching down to grope Xiang’s ass as he teased teeth across the chords of Xiang’s throat.

A hand laid on Xander’s chest, pushing him back gently, toward the bed.

Xiang sprawled on the bed, spreading his legs temptingly. “Your jacket looks a bit hot.”

Xander laughed, hurriedly pulling the sleeves down and tossing the jacket to the side.

“Come here,” he said, inching his legs wider. Xander didn’t have to be told twice-- he climbed in between Xiang’s legs and ran his hands down the outside of Xiang’s thighs, knees to hips. He skimmed across the waist of his sweats.

Xiang tutted. Xander should’ve known he’d have something specific in mind; he took Xander’s hands and splayed them across his own chest before he grabbed a bottle of lube-- Xander didn’t even wonder where it came from-- and slicked his fingers, sliding his hand under the waist of his pants.

“Wait, what?” Xander was puzzled. He was being told to do something, but he didn't want Xiang to correct him if he did something wrong.

Xiang rolled his eyes and wrapped his free hand around the back of Xander’s neck and pulled his face down to his chest. Ah.

He pressed his open mouth to sip between Xiang’s pecs, trailing kisses under his one pec, occasionally letting his teeth scrape against his skin. Each scrape earned him a shiver and a gasp. He felt Xiang’s hand moving between his legs. He slid his hands over Xiang's shoulders as he sucked a mark into his skin, kneading Xiang's tense muscles.

A moan bubbled up out of Xiang’s throat when Xander closed his mouth over a nipple. The sound of Xiang’s fingers-- the wet, erotic slick-- became audible as Xiang arched his chest up into Xander’s mouth.

Xander let off, moving his attention to bite along the side of his pec, sucking and licking until the skin was red and Xiang was gasping.

“Alright,” Xiang breathed. “ _ Alright _ ,” he said again, shoving at Xander’s shoulder. “Off,” Xiang said shortly. Xander rolled his eyes, laying back: compliant but unhelpful as Xiang yanked Xander’s shirt up over his head and pulled his pants down and off.

Xander watched Xiang in the mirror, admired the tight muscles of his back and the spread of his legs as he straddled Xander, facing away from him. Xander grit his teeth at the position; switching so quickly from pulling Xander close to trying to put some kind of distance between them.

The thought was pushed away, thankfully, as Xiang reached behind himself to line Xander’s dick up and ease down. Xander grabbed a handful his ass, thumb against his rim to feel himself slide in.

Xander intended to lay back and let Xiang do his thing, watch from the mirror above. Watching the muscles in his ass and back work was hypnotizing, feeling how they bunched and stretched under his hand.

But God if Xiang wasn’t stiff. He sunk down on Xander slow, rolling his hips in tight little circles until he was leaning up on his knees to drop back onto Xander. He sat ramrod straight, not giving much of a show in the mirror.

Xander grabbed his hips and thrust up lazily in time with Xiang’s movements. Xiang braced his hands back on Xander’s abs, but kept his head hung forward where Xander couldn’t see.

It didn’t  _ matter _ because it was pleasurable either way. It was just an urge Xander had, to see him receiving pleasure.

Which is why he reached for Xiang’s shoulder, pulling him back to make him lean more fully on his hands braced on Xander’s abs.

“What’s your game?” Xiang breathed. 

“You should relax,” Xander said, the thumb of his hand gripping Xiang’s shoulder rubbing circles into the tense muscle there.

He anticipated Xiang’s scoff, and he dug his fingers in harshly when Xiang tried to pull away.

“You think you can make me relax?”

“Will you let me try?” It sounds less like the challenge Xander meant it to be and more like a genuine, earnest question. Xiang’s hips stilled, and Xander swallowed.

“Yeah, you can  _ try _ ,” Xiang said smugly.

The gasp Xander earned when he pulled Xiang roughly backward-- until his arms went out and he fell back against Xander’s chest-- was decidedly less smug. Xander pressed his face against the side of Xiang’s neck, not kissing or teasing but just feeling his pulse thrum against his lips as he peered up at the mirror to lock eyes with Xiang. He positioned his feet on the bed and thrust up into him, deep and hard.

Xiang’s legs were folded under him still, making him squirm as Xander ran his hands over Xiang’s torso, teasing at the red marks Xander had left on his chest.

Whether Xiang meant it or not, Xander was taking the invitation to  _ try _ as an invitation to take control and see what responses he could wring out of him. He pinched Xiang’s nipple and relished the way Xiang bit his lip in response.

Xander picked up his pace, slamming into him until Xiang was gasping and gripping back at Xander’s hips.

“Wait, wait,” he said wiggling his hips against Xander. “You’re gonna give me a fucking cramp.”

Xander stilled, giving him the chance to move his calves out from under himself. Xander lay his hand on Xiang’s stomach possessively, stroking the skin between his navel and his hip.

“Hold your knees,” Xander said, breath hot on Xiang’s ear. He nipped at the soft skin behind it, right where his neck met his skull and Xiang shivered. 

“What?” Xiang said, voice distant and eyes glazed. Then Xander grabbed his thighs, taking hold behind his knees and pulling Xiang’s legs into the air.

“Hold on,” Xander said again, taking the lobe of Xiang’s ear between his teeth. Xiang took the hint, placing his hands over Xander’s on his legs and replacing them as Xander moved his hands, one to Xiang’s hip and the other to rest on his throat.

Xiang’s eyes shut tight as Xander started thrusting up into him again, harder, rocking him back against Xander’s chest. It was a rush to see Xiang so out of control; a rush to know how easily Xander pushed him to this state. It made Xander want to push him further. 

“Eyes open,” Xander told him before bending to bite Xiang’s neck.

Xander looked up at the mirror as he sucked a sloppy hickey into Xiang’s soft shoulder. God, there was a lot to appreciate there. Xiang’s body splayed out on top of his own, arched back against him, his toes curling where they hung in the air, legs swaying as Xander fucked him. He was flushed from exertion, his lower lip sucked into his mouth and his eyes barely open as he rode out his pleasure while trying to obey Xander’s order. 

Xander groaned against the sweaty skin at the nape of his neck and hungrily took in everything about Xiang that he could. Heat settled in his pelvis like a rock.

Xiang had sweat through his hair gel so his hair flopped down into his eyes now, sticking to his forehead. Xander thrust in just right and hit that spot that made Xiang’s mouth fall open and pulled a gasping groan out of him. Xander could feel it vibrate in Xiang’s chest and throat under his fingers. 

Xiang was hard, precome dripping over Xander’s hand where he’d slid it over Xiang’s navel. He kept his eyes on Xiang’s as he rubbed it into the warm flesh of his inner thigh.

Xander teased his fingertips down Xiang’s thigh, smooth and slick with sweat, down to the juncture of his hip. At the first firm touch on his perineum, Xiang gasped harshly,toes curling harder. One of his thighs slipped out from his grip and he jerked his hips back against Xander desperately, eyes squeezed shut.

Perhaps Xander was a touch smug as he stilled his hips and tutted directly into Xiang’s ear. He stroked a slow line from his balls to his hole.

“You just don’t listen, do you?”

He felt Xiang shiver against him as he canted his hips away, pulling out. Xiang bit off the beginning of the whine that escaped him.

Xander gripped Xiang’s flank before smacking it lightly. “Up. Get off,” Xander told him.

Xiang rolled beside him, his knees weak.

Xander kneeled beside him and pressed down on his chest with one hand, Xiang’s shoulders sinking back into the mattress, and grabbed his ankles with the other, placing them on one of his own shoulders so Xiang’s thighs were pressed together, his entrance exposed. Xiang, momentarily beside himself as he caught up to the new position, grasped at the sheets.

Xander grabbed the discarded lube bottle, popping the cap and squeezing some out on the seam of Xiang’s thighs. He tossed the bottle aside, gathering the lube on two of his fingers and tracing it down to Xiang’s hole. Xander licked his lips as he pressed the two inside, all the way, and twisted his wrist, wringing a choked sound out of Xiang.

“Come on,” Xiang grit out. “Just fuck me.”

Xander grinned at him, pulling his fingers out before thrusting them back in, all the way to the knuckle. Xiang’s heels dug in against Xander’s shoulder.

Xander removed his fingers, but only to collect more of the lube running down Xiang’s thighs and coax it toward his entrance. He slid in three fingers this time, still not enough to even stretch his hole after they’d been fucking. He bit back his smirk when Xiang squirmed.

Xiang closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing and settle in for however long Xander was entertained by teasing him. 

“Hey,” Xander said, stilling his hand. Xiang set his jaw, trying to hide his reaction to the huskiness in Xander’s voice. “Keep your eyes open, Xiang.”

He scowled, flexing his calf against Xander as a wordless threat. Xander picked it up immediately, his hand not fingering Xiang’s hole wrapping around Xiang’s ankle tightly. Xiang’s eyes flashed, wide with arousal. Xander knew Xiang could kick his legs free easily, if he wanted to. Apparently, he didn’t want to. 

“This is your idea of relaxation?” Xiang said, pushing force behind his words but ending up nearly sighing them, voice tight as Xander glanced against the spot that lit his nerves on fire. Xiang’s faced burned red. 

Xander chuckled, deciding to take pity on him. He pulled his fingers out and readjusted Xiang’s legs to wrap around his hips.

He trailed the fingertips of one hand from Xiang’s collarbone to his ear. Xiang turned his face away from it, scowling and exposing more of neck.

Xander took his cock in his other hand, sliding the head over Xiang’s hole, and then past it, just to drag that irritated sound from Xiang’s throat.

“Stop  _ teasing _ me,” Xiang said. He pushed Xander’s hand away from his throat. Xander grabbed his hand and pressed it into the mattress above his head before quickly returning to Xiang’s face, thumb resting on Xiang’s lower lip. He couldn't suppress his smug smirk. 

“You want it?” Xander laughed. “Show me.” He pressed his thumb harder into the soft lip, past it to press down on his tongue. Xiang scowled at him, but closed his lips around the intrusion and sucked. Only for a moment, though, before he pulled his lips back and bit down on Xander’s thumb.

Xander grunted in surprise and Xiang had a moment to look pleased before Xander grabbed his jaw, thumb still pressing down on his tongue, and wretched his head to the side, pushing his cheek against the pillow. Xiang gasped, hands grabbing at Xander’s shoulders as he bowed over Xiang to bite into his neck and simultaneously line his cock up to Xiang’s entrance and shove inside.

Xiang, unable to cover any noise with his jaw pried open, let out a desperate throaty sound as Xander pushed deeper. He bit down on Xander’s thumb again.

Xander sucked on his neck as pressed back against Xiang’s hands scrambling on his shoulders. 

He paused for a moment when he bottomed out, savoring the feeling of their bodies pressed together, Xiang’s breath coming quick and hot on Xander’s hand and the side of his head, his thighs flexing against Xander’s waist.

The moment was over quickly, though, and he pulled out, setting a fast pace. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in, his hips smacking against Xiang’s thighs and ass. He felt the moist air that his thrusts jolted out of Xiang on every stroke, felt Xiang wrap his arms around Xander’s shoulders and hold tight.

Although he loved the sounds forced out of Xiang’s mouth as his jaw was held open around Xander’s thumb, the positions of their limbs was getting cramped. Xander wiped Xiang’s saliva over Xiang’s cheekbone, earning a weak glare, before he rested his hand on the side of Xiang’s neck.

He pulled back, bracing his forearm over Xiang’s head so he could take a good look at him. Xiang’s eyes were shut again.

Xander slowed his hips. “Hey,” he said quietly, his voice low and gravelly. He moved his hand to cup the line of Xiang’s jaw, coaxing his eyes open.

Xiang was a sight-- he always was-- with red lips parted, blush spread over his face and down his neck, eyes blown dark and unfocused.

Xander clenched his jaw, considering, before leaning down and pressing his mouth to Xiang’s. Xiang accommodated him, let out a gasp when Xander scraped his teeth over his lower lip.

Xander’s eyes were hooded, watching Xiang as they kissed, Xiang’s tongue gliding over both of their lower lips. When Xiang slitted his eyes and held Xander’s eye contact, Xander’s pulse jumped, thrummed against his ribs frantically. He pulled away instinctively, panting against Xiang’s cheek and squeezing his eyes shut.

One of Xiang’s hands slid up to cup the back of Xander’s head. “Come on and  _ fuck  _ me.” His heel dug into Xander’s lower back.

Xander didn’t have to be told twice. He regained his earlier pace, encouraged by the way Xiang spread his thighs and arched, obviously close. He took Xiang in hand, smearing his precome over his shaft as he stroked him, fast and sloppy.

Xiang’s nails dug into his shoulder blade, pulling at his muscles. His thighs clamped down around Xander’s waist tightly, limiting the depth of his thrusts.

The way their cheeks were pressed together, Xander could feel Xiang’s jaw clench, feel the whining gasp simmer in his throat before he cried out, coming hard on his stomach, covering Xander’s hand. Xander slowed his pace once again, giving Xiang a few more good strokes before Xiang’s legs fell away from his waist, splaying open. Xiang’s abdomen fluttered with aftershocks, his face lax and mouth parted as he panted.

Xander pulled nearly all the way out before slowly pushing back in-- revelling in the way Xiang quivered under him-- and again, pressing his hips flush against Xiang’s thighs and coming.

Xander pressed his face into the crook of Xiang’s neck as they laid there, spent and satisfied. He felt the stickiness of Xiang’s come where it smeared between them, but couldn’t be bothered to care just yet.

Xiang slid his hand up over Xander’s back, the sweat on his palms making the lines he’d scratched into Xander’s shoulder sting, and settled on Xander’s neck. He traced some pattern there, over and over, with the tip of his nail, and Xander could feel himself melting into the touch. He was so boneless that it took him several long moments to figure out Xiang was tracing the triple X tattoo on his neck. Which meant Xiang was watching both of them in the mirror.

Xander didn't know what that made him feel, exactly.

Eventually, once they had cooled off and Xander was barely balancing the blissful fatigue and the knowledge that there was drying come between their chests, Xiang scraped his nails in straight lines across Xander’s neck, still light but harsh enough to bring Xander back. “Xander,” he said. “If you don’t get up, this is going to be very unpleasant.”

Xander blinked slowly, giving a muffled acknowledgment. Xiang’s tone was hushed, his wording softer than usual.

“Is that a threat?” Xander joked, voice rough. He pulled away and out of Xiang, getting to his hands and knees and crawling to the edge of the bed.

Xander went to the bathroom, taking a quick leak and wetting a towel, cleaning off his own torso before returning to Xiang and wiping him down as well. Xiang watched him with hooded eyes that Xander carefully avoided.

He filled a glass of water and put it on the nightstand, and flopped back down on the bed, leaving a buffer zone between himself and Xiang.

Xiang groaned as he turned to his side, stretching. “I don’t have this room reserved all night.”

Xander laughed. He turned over to the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans to fish out his phone. He ignored the text alerts and pulled open the alarm app. “What time should I set it for?”

Xiang hummed, scooting up behind Xander. “Two.” Xiang sat up to grab the blanket that had been kicked to the foot of the bed and pulled it up over them.

Xander set the alarm and put the phone under the pillow. He could feel Xiang breathe against his spine, and he was unsure of what to do. They weren’t touching, but Xiang was close enough for his body heat to warm Xander’s back and thighs.

Long, silent seconds passed before Xiang put his hand on Xander’s ribs and pulled him back against his chest. Xander tensed, surprised, but quickly tried to suppress his reaction and relax.

Xiang was warm, if nothing else. It felt nice. After all, on Xander’s side, this arrangement was about chasing what felt good.

Regardless if it became increasingly suspect that Xiang did not view their relationship the same way.  

Xander pushed that away, letting himself be lulled by the even breathing on his neck and the warmth of the arm wrapped around his middle.

\--

“Oh shit, on your right,” Xander said, shifting to his left side.

“Got it,” Adele came in over his headset. The insurgent was hit with a string of bullets, and he slumped against the wall.

“Good one.” Xander followed Adele through a doorway, immediately finding three more enemies. Xander emptied his rifle into the room, stepping back for cover as he reloaded.

“Clear,” Adele said. “Getting slow, old man. Need to take a break?” she laughed.

Xander scoffed.

“Ah, one second,” Adele said, her voice becoming muffled. “Xander? Sorry, dinner’s soon.” She paused the game. “We can come back to this spot, it just saved in the last room.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed neutrally.

Adele let them sit in silence for a moment as she closed out of the game. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Xander put his controller aside and rubbed the back of his neck. Adele probably didn't even remember the conversation they’d had in passing during that stake out on the roof. He’d asked her to play with him while she visited family (or friends, or associates or whoever) back in Australia, so he could ask for advice.

“Is it Xiang?” she asked, a hint of smugness in her voice.

Xander didn’t answer immediately. “Yeah.”

Adele laughed--  _ laughed _ \-- at him. Xander blustered, tutting, though he couldn’t really be  _ mad _ .

“Oh  _ god _ , Xander, how much time have you spent around him?” she said through her laughter. “You’re even starting to sound like him.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” he said, running a hand down his face. Why’d he think Adele would be helpful? 

“Jesus,” she said, sounding like her laughing fit was coming under control. “You’ve got it bad, huh Cage?”

“What? No,” Xander said quickly. “No, Adele I  _ told _ you, we just fuck. But I think  _ Xiang  _ thinks it's more than that.”

Adele was silent. “You sound really full of yourself right now.”

Xander pinched the bridge of his nose. “Adele.”

“What am I supposed to do? Maybe you should cut it off if you don’t want anything serious.”

Xander sighed, frustrated. “I don’t want to do that.” He considered what he  _ did _ want from her. “It’s just: why did you think we were anything more than…”

“Than fuck buddies? Well,” she thought on it. “You two moon after each other like middle schoolers, frankly.” She paused. “At least, you moon after  _ him.” _

“Fuck you,” Xander sighed. “God, Adele, how do I  _ tell _ if he--”

“When did we go back to middle school?” she said under her breath. “I don’t get men, anyway, Cage. See how he acts around you when you’re not, like, actively fucking?”

“That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

Xander was going to return some quip when his doorbell rang.

“Huh?” Adele said, hearing Xander cut off as he was beginning to speak.

“Someone’s here,” he said, as if he didn’t know who it was. Like he didn't know who the only person who had his address was.

“Ha! Well, here’s your chance I guess,” Adele said knowingly. “Let me know how it goes. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Xander grumbled. He pulled the headset off and set it on the couch before getting up to open the door.

Sure enough, there was Xiang, wearing gray sweats and a black hoodie. He smelled like smoke, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey.” Xander stood back for him to pass. Xiang went straight to the couch, leaning against the back of it while Xander lingered in the doorway, considering how to steer this away from sex like Adele suggested.

“Want something to drink?” Xander said, hoping he sounded casual.

Xiang quirked an amused eyebrow at him. “No thanks.”

Xander hummed and grabbed a can of Coke from his fridge anyway.

He popped it open and took a drink. “Not that I don’t appreciate you coming over, but I’m--” Xander could hear how lame his excuse was already “-- too tired to do anything tonight.”

Xiang raised his brows. He looked tired, too. Not just the circles under his eyes, but the slump in his shoulders, the way he leaned fully against the couch. He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m just killing time.” He looked over his shoulder at the TV. “You were playing something?”

“Call of Duty, with Adele,” Xander said before taking another drink. 

Xiang hummed. “She’s off somewhere?” he asked, though it was more of an observation. Adele didn’t really announce that she was going home to the team-- she let Xander know when she was already in the airport terminal.

“She’s visiting family.” 

“Oh,” Xiang said, awkwardly ending the thread of conversation. He started picking at his fingernail absently. It occurred to Xander that Xiang had never mentioned a family. Xander didn't even know where he was from. 

“Have you ever played?” he asked, nodding to the television.

“I play with real guns,” Xiang said. “Like a big boy.”

Xander laughed. “Yeah, sure, but video games are fun, you know?”

“Mario Kart is fun,” Xiang said. “Call of Duty is....” he looked at Xander cheekily, “dumb.”

“You’ve never played,” Xander said again and smiled.

He was already moving to the couch, grabbing up his controller.

“What,” Xiang said, sitting beside Xander, “you’re going to make me watch you play? I might as well have stayed at the hotel and listened to Talon snore.”

“You gotta give it a chance, bro.” Xander grabbed another controller from a compartment under the arm of the couch. He grabbed a remote, switching on the screen beside his main television set.

“I do not have to,” Xiang said petulantly. “I don’t like first person shooter.”

“What?” Xander said, ignoring him and setting up the game. He felt Xiang watching him, and focused even harder on the start screen as the game loaded. Xiang held the controller loosely when Xander handed it to him. “You know how to use it?”

“Push the buttons,” Xiang said.

“Well, yeah,” Xander said. “It’s a little more complicated.” He pointed to the buttons, giving Xiang a quick overview of what he’d need to know for the game.

Still, Xiang watched him more than he paid attention to the controller. Xander turned away and started the game.

Of course, he had hoped Xiang would have fun, or at least  _ try _ to keep his character alive.

The fifth time Xiang leaned back, shrugging at Xander as he respawned, Xander gave up on that hope. Xiang hated the game.

Xander had been trying to help Xiang, to cover his back, but Xiang just kept  _ dying _ .

Which meant Xander was close to the spawn spot. Well, if Xiang wasn’t going to play seriously…

Xander quickly moved to the adjacent building, finding a window with a view of the spawn spot and waited for Xiang’s character to reappear. He immediately shot him, not even giving him the chance to move. Xiang’s screen went red and showed the last ten seconds of gameplay in Xander’s perspective. Xiang gawked.

“Did you just?” Xiang shoved at Xander’s shoulder. “What the fuck!”

Xander grinned. It was only a moment before Xiang spawned again, and Xander moved to another window, allowing Xiang to move a few feet before coming into Xander’s crosshairs again. Xander took the shot.

“ _ Stop it _ ,” Xiang said angrily.

Xander shrugged, moving his character away from the window so Xiang could see. He went up another flight of stairs. He kept one eye on Xiang’s screen, gauging how long it would be until he came out onto the street between the buildings they were in.

Xander found the windows overlooking the street again, and lobbed a hand grenade out the window. It landed just beside Xiang, and his screen went red again.

Xiang went still. He put the controller down and crossed his arms. He looked pissed, but Xander knew it was performative.

“Ah, come on Xiang,” Xander said. “I’m just having fun.”

“I don’t want to play anymore.”

Xander laughed. “Didn’t you just call yourself a big boy?” Xander teased. “Now you’re gonna throw a fit?”

“Fuck off.” He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed accusatorily. Xander laughed again, leaning toward Xiang amiably. He wanted to kiss that pout off his face; he caught that idea just as he leaned close enough that Xiang’s eyes widened, unsure of what Xander was doing.

“You wanna play Mario Kart then?” Xander said, voice thin as he reeled back from whatever  _ that _ was.

Xiang didn’t let go of the pout immediately, looking away. The pleased curl at the corner of his mouth gave him away, though.

“I call Bowser,” he said. Xander gave him a good long look, incredulous, and watched Xiang’s grin spread. The quick turn around in his mood, the way he played Xander, the fact that Xiang played as  _ Bowser _ .

Xander tipped his head back and laughed.

\--

He wasn’t laughing when Xiang kicked his ass.

Xiang, when he was actually  _ trying _ , was a stoic gamer. Only when his cart flew off the side of the road or he hit shell did he jump back, cursing under his breath.

He was leaned forward, forearms on his knees and his hunched shoulders to focus intently on the map, dropping a well placed blue shell whenever Xander got close.

He’d taken the hoodie off, just wearing his sweats and a white tank top, so in Xander’s defense, it was difficult to focus on the game.

Round after round, Xiang leaned back and grinned at Xander smugly. “We should start betting on this,” he said.

“Maybe you’d be able to afford some clothes that fit you then,” Xander spat back. “Aside from that god awful Hawaiian shirt.”

“Ha!” Xiang bumped his shoulder against Xander’s. Xander grit his teeth as Xiang started the next round.

Xander knew he could win a round and bump Xiang down a notch if he could just get the upper hand in the first lap. And god did he want to wipe that smug look off Xiang’s face.

By fair play, Xiang was much better at the game-- who spent that much time perfecting their skills in  _ Mart Kart _ ?-- but Xander was not averse to underhanded tactics.

The countdown sounded, and Xander leaned over into Xiang’s space, bowing his head to kiss Xiang’s shoulder. He hit the button to thrust his cart forward, centering one hand on the controller to reach over and grab Xiang’s thigh with the other. Xiang jumped, surprised, and peered at Xander with round eyes.

Then he looked back at the screen, seeing Xander’s Wario leaving him far behind.

“Fuck!” He shoved at Xander’s head, pushing him away and wedging his knee against Xander’s hip to push him to the other side of the couch. He leaned forward again, concentrating on catching up in the game, but tried to nudge at Xander’s arm to throw him off in return.

Xander pushed back, laughing when Xiang kicked the controller out of his hand. He jabbed at Xiang’s ribs with one hand as he reached down to retrieve it. Xiang twisted away from him sharply, an involuntary sound escaping him.

Xander grinned, but focused on turning a sharp corner before he could say, “You’re ticklish?”

“Fuck off.”

Xander jabbed at him again, but Xiang blocked his hand and pushed him away. He grabbed Xiang’s wrist and pulled him down with him as he fell to his side on the couch, pulling Xiang onto him inadvertently.

He held tight to Xiang’s wrist, pulling it over both their heads and trying to grab at Xiang’s ribs with his other hand, to poke into the sensitive muscles there. Xiang dropped his controller altogether in favor of gripping the couch’s arm for leverage as he tried to knee Xander in the stomach.

Xander pushed at Xiang’s core, throwing him off balance enough to flip them, grabbing both of Xiang’s hands in one of his and pressing them against the couch arm. He sat on Xiang’s thighs, preventing him from kicking him, and pushed his tank top to the side with his free hand.

He leaned down, loosening his grip on Xiang’s wrists for a moment, to press his mouth to Xiang’s ribs where he’d poked before. He blew a raspberry, delighting in the angry and uncontrolled yelp it elicited, the full body shiver and muscle spasm. Xiang heaved his weight against Xander and sent them sprawling onto the ground.

Xiang braced his forearm over Xander’s chest, kneeling between Xander’s legs close enough that he knew Xander wouldn’t be able to kick-- Xander frankly wasn’t as flexible as him, and Xiang knew it.

Xiang glared at him, still breathless, cheeks red.

“Fine, fine,” Xander laughed. “I give.”

Satisfied yet weary of him, Xiang sat back, evening out his breath, hands on his hips as he recovered.

“You’re annoying,” Xiang said, glancing at the television. For probably the fifth time, his Bowser flew off the edge of the road. “You never play fair, do you?”

Xander grinned up at him fondly, hand finding Xiang’s hip as he leaned up and kissed him.

He realized what he was doing as his other hand came up and cupped the back of Xiang’s head, swallowing Xiang’s gasp. His lips were soft and pliant, his breath washing over Xander’s cheek. His hands landed on Xander’s shoulders, light and hesitant. Xander watched through slanted eyes as Xiang’s eyes slipped shut. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ . 

Xiang groaned, pushing him down on his back and following with his mouth, splaying his warm hands on Xander’s chest. Xander, still reeling from initiating the kiss, ran his tongue along Xiang’s lower lip and returned Xiang’s soft moan when he parted his lips. 

Xander distracted himself from the heady feeling of their lips, the warmth from Xiang’s body pressed against his, the thrumming in his head, by running his fingers through Xiang’s silky hair. 

His pulse fluttered with nervous energy as Xiang pulled away. Xiang’s eyes were still shut, his face neutral. Still, his lips were red and damp, cheeks flushed, and Xander kept petting through the hair near the nape of his neck. 

“I thought you said you were tired,” Xiang said quietly. 

“I--” Xander cut himself off. “I am.” 

“You stayed up till one anyway.” 

“Well,” Xander said, “I don’t usually have company.” 

Xiang’s mouth quirked, amused, and he finally opened his eyes to peer down at Xander. His expression was odd; Xander couldn’t put his finger on what was off. “It’s getting late,” he said. 

“You could stay,” Xander said. He rested his hand at the juncture of Xiang’s shoulder and neck. 

Xiang glanced at his hoodie on the back of the couch. “I… shouldn’t.” 

_ Right _ . Xander swallowed.  _ Fuck, of course _ . 

But Xiang didn’t move, still staring at his sweater. “I shouldn’t,” he said again. “But I could.” Xander took his hand back, letting Xiang get to his feet and offer Xander a hand. “I just need a smoke. Do you have a balcony?” 

Xander shook his head. 

Xiang grabbed his hoodie. “I’ll go downstairs then.” He pulled it on. “Leave the door unlocked?” 

Xander nodded. He stood there, dumbfounded, as Xiang left.

He looked at the TV, the Mario Kart game that was still cycling through their characters driving off course and respawning, since they hadn’t turned it off in Xiang’s haste to smoke. He watched them respawn mindlessly, keeping his head carefully silent.

Xander went to the bathroom, threw water on his face. The voice in the back of his head, the one that kept wondering about their arrangement, was quiet.

Xander glanced in his room, making sure it wasn’t too messy, before grabbing a sweater and his keys and going out.

Xiang was sitting on a bench under a streetlight just outside Xander’s apartment complex, one arm crossed over his chest, other hand holding a cigarette close to his face. Xander, careful to let his footsteps echo on the quiet street, sat beside him.

When Xiang let them sit in stifling silence, he blanked for anything to say. “You said you and Talon were in a hotel room?” Xander said. Small talk, however awkward, was safe.

Xiang nodded. “Sometimes you need space from a guy like Talon.”

Xander laughed. Talon was a good guy, but he was eager to please and talkative, always buzzing.

“You guys shouldn’t always be staying in a hotel when you’re in LA. I’ve got space, y’know. A couch, spare room.”

“How kind of you.”

Xander shrugged. “Hate for your hotel rates to be paid by tax dollars,” he said cheekily.

Xiang laughed at that. Xander didn’t quite see how it was so funny that Xiang was leaning back, cigarette held away.

The tension was lifted, and Xiang finished his cigarette in silence, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his heel as he stood.

Xiang opened the complex’s door, but pulled back abruptly, lingering in the doorway for a moment. He turned back to Xander, and again like that time in Durban, it seemed like he wanted to say something.

Xander’s stomach churned, and suddenly he didn’t want to hear whatever Xiang was hesitating to say.

“I’m cold,” Xander said. “Are you? I can let you borrow some clothes.” He mentally cringed at himself as he slid past Xiang.

Xiang’s eyes flashed with  _ something _ , but he nodded, following Xander inside. “Thanks.”

\--

Xander made breakfast in the morning, just simple eggs and toast. Xiang sipped at his coffee and left soon after.

  
Xander was never going to tell Adele about this. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check tags for updated warnings! ask me if you want more info before reading! (u can message me on tumblr, username's vaenire <3)

It was different between them now. Xander stopped thinking about it, but he observed how Xiang kept a carefully measured distance between them, even as he shot Xander glances when no one else was looking. 

Example: right now, in the Swiss bus the team was taking through the Alps to an inn Gibbon set up for them after another successful mission. Xander sat near the back, Xiang standing near the door and swaying with the turns. Every so often, Xiang would glance up and they swapped private looks across the aisles of seats. 

The bus turned sharply, making its way slowly and precariously through the idyllic scenery of the valley and maneuvering the tight road that clung to the side of the mountain. 

They got off at the next little hamlet nestled in the curve of the river, and Hawk checked the map. It was a short walk to the inn. Gibbons had called this a vacation, his treat, a chance for them to rest-- well-earned after their continuous success. 

That made Xander suspicious. Another thing to not think about for now. 

Serena, who was apparently fluent in Italian, checked them in. They had rooms on the top floor of the Chalet to themselves. The rest of the team eagerly dropped off their bags, not even bothering to stake a claim on a room before clambering back out to find a pub for dinner and some fun. 

This conveniently left Xander and Xiang a cover-- no one else noticed how they dragged their feet in following along. Xiang made a comment about going hiking, maybe, and let the others go off. 

Xander moved his stuff into the room at the end of the hall. He changed into less stifling clothes; the trek to the Inn had been hot, so he sat on the bed and took a long drink from his water bottle. 

Xiang took the room beside his, but didn’t stay there long. It took him a moment to come knock on Xander’s door, immediately passing Xander, dropping his phone on the bed and going to the bathroom to check over the knife wound he’d sustained on the mission they just finished up. 

Xander didn’t join him in the bathroom immediately, taking his time to open the windows and let in the sun and fresh air. It was something about the scenery, the mountain air that made Xander feel… something. He felt like taking Xiang out on the town, go on a hike and bring a picnic, or something. It was weird. Not good. Xander pushed it away. 

He tidied up the clothes he’d pulled out and spread on his bed when he was changing, zipping his bag back up and put it on the ground beside his dresser. 

Xiang’s phone started vibrating suddenly, and Xander glanced at the caller ID, thinking to let Xiang know, but couldn’t read the Chinese characters. Xander grabbed it and knocked on the bathroom door, which slid open an inch.

Xiang was inspecting the knife wound he’d sustained on the latest mission. It was long, running over his shoulder and down the outside of his bicep, but not deep. He pulled at its edges, testing, and staring at himself in the mirror. 

The phone vibrations stopped. 

“Ah,” Xander said awkwardly, seeing Xiang spot his phone in Xander’s hand. “You just missed a call.” 

Xiang looked at him in the mirror and held his hand out for his phone silently, checking the history. He pocketed it quickly and grabbed bandages from a kit Xander hadn’t seen him bring with him. 

“Help me wrap this up, will you?” 

Xander took the roll of gauze, wrapping it around and around Xiang’s arm. He focused on keeping it tight without cutting circulation, ignoring the way Xiang watched him. 

They did a lot of things silently these days. Xander was still trying to gauge Xiang, gauge his thoughts, but he was hesitant to dwell on the subject. 

Xiang went back to the bedroom, leaning back against the window sill. Xander gave a half smile as he followed, bracing his arms on either side of Xiang’s hips and crowding up to him, leaning down to plant a kiss on Xiang’s neck. 

With an abruptness that surprised Xander, Xiang surged up, grabbing the back of Xander’s neck and spinning them around so Xander was pressed back against the wall beside the window. 

He put his hands on Xander’s shoulders, leaning up and kissing Xander, sliding his tongue along Xander’s teeth. Xander tried his best to keep up, hands groping at Xiang’s back, but Xiang steamrolled him, forcing him to submit as  his hands slid down from Xander’s shoulder to grip the front of Xander’s shorts and fumbled with the hook and zipper until he could pull it open and shove them down to Xander’s thighs. 

Xander reached for Xiang’s pants to do the same, but Xiang was getting down on his knees and pulling his boxers down before he could. Xander wasn’t hard yet, so Xiang spit in his palm and took Xander, stroking him quick and tight, pressing his face into the junction of his thigh and sucking on the soft skin. 

Xander chanced it, weaving his hands into Xiang’s hair and cupping the back of his head. 

Xiang looked up at him as he laved his tongue over Xander’s upper thigh, encouraging him to spread his legs for him with hands on the inside of Xander’s knees. Xander’s cock pulsed in Xiang’s hand, and Xander felt his face burn. 

Xiang mouthed the base of his cock, latching his lips onto the heated skin as he stroked the rest of the length, spreading spit and precome. 

Xander groaned his name and pulled his hair as Xiang moved up, sliding his wet lips and tongue along the length to the head of his cock, kissing under the ridge. 

He pushed up Xander’s tank top with his free hand, grabbing Xander’s hip as he took hold of the base of his cock and wrapped his lips around the head. 

Xander squeezed his eyes shut as Xiang eased down on him, his cheeks hollowing obscenely and his tongue working on the underside. 

When Xiang stalled about halfway down, his hand working what didn’t fit in his mouth, he dug his nails into Xander’s hip. Xander gasped, eyes shooting back open. He couldn’t be mad, though, with how Xiang’s red, wet lips were stretched around his cock, his cheeks hollowed and a string of spit already starting to gather at the corner of his mouth. 

Xiang stared at him with an intensity that electrified Xander, sending a shock to his core and made him arch into Xiang’s mouth. Xiang slammed Xander’s hips back against the wall, pulling back to run his tongue around Xander’s head again. 

He pulled off with a wet pop. 

“Keep your hips still,” Xiang said firmly, panting slightly, “and your eyes on me.” 

He didn’t wait for an affirmative before he went down again, hollowing his cheeks harshly, soft, wet friction welcoming Xander in and closing around him. 

This time, he didn’t stop halfway down when Xander hit the soft palate at the back of his throat, rather pushing forward until his nose was flush against Xander’s stomach. Xander let out a choked groan watching his cock slide back out between Xiang’s stretched lips. 

Xander ran his hand through the hair gelled up on Xiang’s head, rubbing his fingers into his scalp as Xiang sucked on just his head again, catching his breath. He wanted to convey to Xiang just how  _ good _ he was, how hot he looked, but god knew those words wouldn’t be coming out of Xander’s mouth. 

Xiang swallowed him down again, faster, his tongue working diligently. He bobbed, rapidly taking Xander all the way down his throat and back off again. 

Xiang grabbed Xander’s hand that was resting at his side, bringing it to cup his throat and feel the bulge of his dick there. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” Xander muttered as he felt the bulge recede just to press back into his hand as Xiang swallowed him. Xander closed his eyes and focused on keeping himself from thrusting forward. 

Xiang sunk his nails into Xander’s hips sharply in return, causing Xander to gasp and yank on his hair instinctively, pulling him off with a curse. 

Only then, looking down at Xiang with his mouth open and eyes on Xander’s cock did Xander realize Xiang scratched him because Xander had looked away. Even so, Xiang’s nails were  _ sharp _ and it fucking  _ hurt _ . 

Xander took his hand back from Xiang’s throat, wrapping it around his cock and slapping it against Xiang’s swollen lower lip. Xiang stuck his tongue out, lapping at what he could. 

“Fuck,” Xander said, loosening his hold in Xiang’s hair to run his fingers through it again. The gel had worn out, and the way it fell on Xiang’s forehead made him look… different. Not older or younger. Xander couldn’t put his finger on it. Xiang smirked up at him as he took his cock in his mouth again, and Xander noticed his crow’s feet for what felt like the first time. 

Not older or younger, rather almost soft-looking. 

Of course, his wicked tongue and thumbs smoothing over the crescent shaped welts on Xander’s hips reminded him that Xiang was anything but soft.

Xiang took him down again, bobbing on the last inch so Xander could feel his cock sliding into his throat over and over, feel it constrict around him as Xiang swallowed. 

The sound of Xiang slobbering on him, the red in his cheeks as he gagged himself was pushing Xander dangerously close to the edge. And Xiang was staring up at him through all of it, intense. 

Xiang pulled off just enough to take frantic breaths through his nose before pushing down, again and again. 

His hands slid from Xander’s hips to the back of his thighs, grabbing handfuls and holding tight, eyes hooded and spit running down his chin as he flattened his tongue and hollowed his cheeks even harder. 

Xander couldn’t help but feel the bulge in Xiang’s cheek as he nodded, his throat quivering. Xiang knit his brows together, eyes widening, and looked up at Xander with the sweetest look on his face. 

“Fuck,” Xander muttered, “ _ Fuck,  _ Xiang I’m--” He gripped Xiang’s hair, trying to pull him off, but Xiang just grabbed his thighs even harder, sucking more determinedly until Xander was curling over him and coming down his throat, stars popping in his vision. 

The feeling of Xiang swallowing around him, swallowing his come, shocked Xander’s nerves, sending the pleasure of his orgasm to the tips of his limbs in waves. 

Xiang leaned back on his heels, one hand smoothing over the welts on Xander’s hip, until Xander looked at him again. There was spit and come on his chin, which Xiang made a show of collecting on his thumb and sucking into his mouth. 

Xander put his hand on Xiang’s face, unthinkingly gentle as he smoothed his thumb over the corner of his eye, feeling the crinkle of Xiang’s crow’s feet as Xiang smiled mischievously, taking Xander’s cock in his hand and wrapping his lips around it again. 

“Xiang,” Xander rasped as Xiang tongued at the oversensitive head. Xander’s thighs shook slightly under Xiang’s hands already. He pushed against Xiang’s face, which seemed only to encourage him to take more of him into his mouth and down his throat again. 

Xander’s knees threatened to give out.

“ _ Xiang _ ,” he whined again, his back slipping down against the wall. 

Xiang pulled off with a bout of laughter, kissing Xander’s quivering abdomen before standing, crowding Xander against the wall. 

He pushed Xander until he was seated on the window sill, Xiang slotting one thigh between Xander’s and resting the other knee against the sill, pressing the bulge in his pants against Xander’s hip. 

Xander pulled at his pants button, relishing in the wet spot he could feel forming at the front of his trousers, and pushed them down until Xiang’s cock was free. He was already dripping precome, and Xander rubbed the bit that got on his hand into Xiang’s stomach as he pushed his shirt up, palming his chest. Xander wrapped his other arm around Xiang’s shoulders, slotting his face against Xiang’s neck. 

Xander wasn’t going to think about the way Xiang arched into his hands, the way he pressed his cheek against Xander’s head or wrapped his arms around Xander’s waist-- there were more important things to focus on, such as how he was pressing his hips against Xander’s, rubbing his erection against him desperately. 

Xiang’s precome slicked Xander’s skin, making his grinding easier. 

It wasn’t long until Xiang was whimpering, despite his best efforts to bite back the sounds. Xander pinched and pulled at his pectoral more firmly, his arm around Xiang’s shoulders slipping down to grip Xiang’s ass and pull him closer, trapping his erection between their hips. 

Xander broke away from Xiang’s neck, leaning back to take in how  _ wrecked _ Xiang was. His lips red and swollen still, cheeks pink and hair an absolute mess. He stared back at Xander with that same gaze, challenging and intense even as he let out a debauched groan when Xander pinched his ass.

Xiang disentangled his arms from Xander’s waist to stroke himself, setting a fast pace. He tilted his head and slotted their lips together, licked along the inside of Xander’s cheek, still tasting vaguely of Xander’s come. 

He grabbed Xander’s hip, pushing his shirt up out of the way just in time for Xander to swallow his gasp as he came over Xander’s waist and chest. 

Xiang took a moment to catch his breath, lips pressed to Xander’s jaw, before pulling away. 

“I think I’m going for that hike,” Xiang said, tucking himself back in his pants. 

“Ah, yeah,” Xander said awkwardly, still unsure of whether his knees were steady enough to stand, his shirt rucked up under his arms and his pants pushed down to his knees. 

“I’ll--” Xiang paused, gesturing vaguely in the air. “I’ll see you later.” 

Xander pulled off his shirt before humming his agreement. “See ya.” 

It was evening now, and Xiang couldn’t go on too long of a hike. But if he needed air, maybe time to call that person back, Xander understood. 

He gave himself some time to get his wits about him before he went to the bathroom, washing off the come drying on his torso. 

He leaned on the vanity, closing his eyes and trying to remember the way Xiang looked up at him with his lips around Xander’s cock and file it away for later. And the way he could feel the bulge of his dick in Xiang’s throat and through his cheeks, and  _ god _ the way he rubbed off on Xander so urgently. 

Xander grabbed a new shirt and pulled it on. The night was still young, and he was sure he heard distant music from the window-- a street parade or a festival maybe. 

\--

There was a little festival in town, as it turned out, with some vendors and booths and a group performing local music under the old church clock tower. Tables were set out with beer being served. 

It wasn’t hard to find where the team had gone-- Nicks and Tennyson found the booth games and were talking loudly as Tennyson tried to throw a ball straight. Becky and Talon were dancing, watched by Adele and Hawk who shared a table off to the side. 

Xander sat at an empty table and ordered a Swiss soda. The waitress smiled at him, an eyebrow raised, and cracked open a bottle for him.

Xander had decided earlier in the trip that he liked the soda over here. Wasn’t as artificial as American soda, not as carbonated. Xander was considering this when Becky came over to him, sitting down heavily on the seat beside him and sprawling her arms across the table. 

“Xanderrr,” she said, giggling softly. She put her hand on Xander’s bicep, and Xander gave her a questioning look. “Why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad, Becky,” he assured her, angling himself in his seat so he could catch her if need be, with the way she was swaying. “How much have you had to drink?” 

Becky giggled again, and it broke off into a hiccup. “Not too much.” She leaned against the hand she had on his arm, squeezing slightly. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

He smiled, tilting his head to convey confusion. “Nothing’s wrong. What do you mean?” 

“You’re here all alone,” she said, her voice weaving between slurring and sing-song. 

Xander laughed at the endearing way she tilted her head. “Aren’t you sitting with me?” 

She giggled again. Xander figured he’d stay with her, make sure she made it back to the inn alright. Although she was leaning in even closer, making Xander rethink how he’d angled toward her before. 

“Excuse me,” someone said, a hand landing on Becky’s shoulder. “Honey,” Xiang said silkily, in a voice that he must reserve to swaying drunk girls into doing what he said, “don’t you think you should go keep Serena company?” 

He pointed to where Serena was sitting, having replaced Hawk who joined Talon on the dance floor. 

Becky hesitated, hand tightening on Xander’s arm, until Xiang leaned in and whispered something in her ear. When he leaned back, Xiang was smiling and Becky giggled, releasing Xander and sauntering over to Serena’s table. 

Xander watched Xiang take a seat with raised brows. Xiang just shrugged, clasping his hands in front of himself. Xander smiled in return. 

“Thanks.” 

“More for your sake than hers, Adele was watching you like a hawk.” 

A waitress bought Xiang a beer, and Xiang took a long drink from it while Xander tried to spot Adele in the party. He took a sip of his soda uneasily. 

“Your hike?” Xander asked. 

“It was getting dark, I had to turn back,” he said, gesturing toward the mountain that the town was tucked underneath. 

“Guess you can try again tomorrow.” 

Xiang smiled lazily and leaned back in his seat, taking out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?” 

Xander hesitated, but waved him ahead. Xiang pulled one out and lit it up, using it to gesture as he went on. 

“There’s a rock climbing company up the street,” he said, pointing with the end of his cigarette. “Figured you might be interested.” 

Xander turned his head to follow the gesture, even though he knew he couldn’t see the shop from here. “Sounds like fun.” 

“I’m sure Serena would agree.” 

Xander smiled into his soda, watching Xiang’s eyes flick back from Xander to his beer, which he took another drink from. There was enough of a smile lingering on Xiang’s face to highlight his crow’s feet again, which made Xander’s smile widen even more. 

This was nice. Easy conversation, sharing drinks. 

Xiang took a drag off his cigarette, exhaling the smoke. His elbows were propped up on the table, his forearms exposed to Xander. The tally marks-- the ones Xander never asked about and Xiang never gave an explanation for-- caught his eyes. 

And again, just like back in Xander’s apartment when he mentioned Adele’s family, he felt like there was a wall between them. He was so close he could reach out to him, but never really touch him. This was  _ nice _ , but Xander felt this was as nice as it was going to get. Whenever Xander felt they were getting somewhere, Xiang was twisting away again. 

He took another sip from his soda. 

Xiang took the last drink of his beer and stood.

“I’ll see you back at the inn,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Xander agreed. 

\--

Xander squeezed past the various limbs stretched across the hall, having arrived after the rest of the team already returned to the inn and set up in the hall between their rooms to play cards. 

In passing, he noticed Xiang wasn’t with them. 

He got ready for bed, brushing his teeth and trying to ignore the loud talking out in the hall. It was all their vacation, after all. 

He stayed awake, lying on his side facing away from the door as he listened to them laughing well into the night. It wasn’t until a bit past two that they started separating, going into their own rooms and settling down to sleep. 

Ten minutes later, once Xander was starting to nod off, he heard a door swing open, footsteps coming to stop in front of his door. His knob turned slowly. 

“Xander?” It was Xiang. “Are you awake?” 

“Mmmh?” Xander started to roll over to face him, but Xiang was by the bed suddenly, hand on his hip.  

“Don’t,” Xiang said softly. “Are you up for another round or nah?” 

He groaned another incoherent yet interested sound. “What do you have in mind?” he managed in a pleasant, if tired, voice. 

“Mm, you don’t have to do anything, really,” Xiang said, climbing onto Xander’s bed with him, pulling back the blankets and placing his hand on Xander’s hip again. 

Xander’s eyes slipped shut again. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

Xiang’s hands smoothed down Xander’s thigh, and Xander hoped his reaction wasn’t too obvious. He paused a long while before responding. “Have you ever had your thighs fucked?” 

Xander shook his head, swallowing. He couldn’t help biting his lip at the thought. 

“You want to?” Xiang asked, his voice suddenly low and quiet again. Xander shivered. 

He shrugged, leaning back into the warmth of Xiang as he sidled up behind Xander. Xiang pressed his chest to Xander’s back, hand slipping into the elastic of Xander’s boxers as he leaned into whisper in Xander’s ear. 

“Well?” 

_ Yes, fuck, yes _ . Xander swallowed back the eagerness bubbling up in his throat. “I’m awake anyway,” he said with another shrug. 

Xiang laughed, a short warm breath in Xander’s ear, as he curled his thumb in the hem of his boxers and slid them down, mouthing at Xander’s neck. 

Xander kicked his boxers off the rest of the way, pulling his shirt off. Xiang leaned away, shimmying out of his sleep pants and opening a bottle of lube. He slid his hands between Xander’s thighs, encouraging him to prop one leg up. 

Xiang poured lube near the top of his inner thigh, and it heated it to his temperature quickly. Xiang spread it with his fingertips, smoothing it up to the crook of his thighs. He poured more out, coating his crack and spreading it further over his other thigh. His touch was soft and diligent. 

He grabbed his dick, too, lubing it up. 

“Close your thighs,” Xiang whispered against his neck. Xander obeyed without show, high on the sensations flooding his system, groaning quietly as Xiang dragged his dick against the seam of his thighs. As he pushed against Xander, his dick sliding between and along Xander’s ass, Xander had to wonder if this was actually pay back for how Xander had teased him before. 

Xiang nosed behind Xander’s ear when his hips were flush against Xander. “Can you…” he exhaled hotly. “Can you squeeze them together for me?” 

Xander hooked his ankles together, pressing his knees in, and Xiang sighed. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he punctuated with a nip under Xander’s jaw, pulling his hips back to rock against Xander. 

The hot slide between his legs, against his perineum and hole was driving him insane. Xiang’s hand wandered over his body, squeezing at his hip bone and his soft waist. He teased teeth at Xander’s shoulder blade. 

“You know,” Xiang said as he dragged his fingertips up Xander’s side. “I’ve been thinking about that time I laid you out and fucked you.” 

Xander swallowed a moan as Xiang flicked his nail over Xander’s nipple. 

“God, I didn’t expect you to love it so much,” Xiang continued, voice low against Xander’s neck. He smoothed his hand down Xander’s side again, glancing past his dick to grab the front of Xander’s thighs, kneading the soft skin over his thick muscles. Xander bit his lip hard and turned his face into his pillow. 

His sleepiness mixed with the heady rush of Xiang’s heat pressed all up against him, between his legs and around his hips, the friction against his sensitive inner thighs, made Xander keen weakly. Xiang’s breath against his neck felt like it was filling up his chest, pressing on his sternum, his heart thumping back against it frantically. 

“Tell me Xander,” Xiang continued, “When was the last time someone fucked you?” 

Xander’s face burned, and he hesitated before saying, “Uh, high school?” 

“Shit,” he whispered, “really?” Xiang grabbed the juncture of his hip and thigh and pulled Xander back on his thrusts. “Thirty years?” 

Xander closed his eyes and nodded, Xiang sucking behind his ear making his eyes rolls back. 

He didn’t know where else to put his hands, so he put one over Xiang’s and the other over his eyes. Xiang chuckled sucking on the lobe of his ear. Xander’s face burned as Xiang slowed his thrusts, a trail of his precome running down Xander’s thigh. 

“Xander,” he said, hushed. “Have you slept with anyone else?” 

Xander furrowed his brow, confused by the question. 

Xiang sighed against his neck, making Xander shiver. “Since we fucked.” 

He had to think about it-- but only for a moment. He shook he head and breath, “No.” 

Xiang tutted and slid his hand between Xander’s legs, cupping his balls. He stilled his hips and hummed. 

“Why?” Adrenaline was kicking in now, his heart thumping fully against his ribs, his pulse filling his ears. What does that kind of question mean? 

No answer. Xiang moved his hand to grip his thigh again. “Touch yourself,” he said against Xander’s neck, mouthing at the hollow under his jaw. 

Xander didn’t hesitate, taking himself in hand and stroking to match the slide of Xiang’s dick between his legs, against his perineum. 

Xiang clutched at Xander’s hip where he'd scratched earlier that evening, grip bruising as he rutted against him. He pressed all along Xander’s back, the only gap between them where Xander’s back arched. He was absolutely going to have welts and bruises on his hip, teeth marks on his shoulder where Xiang was biting down. 

Xiang let out a loud groan that vibrated through Xander’s head as he came between Xander’s thighs. 

Xander clenched his jaw, a touch embarrassed by how his cock jumped at the sensation of come being smeared between his thighs, running down his hip. 

Xiang slotted his arm around Xander’s waist, nosing at the nape of his neck and catching his breath. 

The come cooling on his thighs, Xiang’s even breath so near his ear, the sting of what was sure to be a dark bruise on his hip had Xander thrusting wantonly against his hand. 

Xiang was pressing open mouthed kisses all over his neck, his lips rubbing into the hickey forming on his shoulder. As Xander grinded his hips up into his hand, it jostled Xiang’s softening cock, earning soft moans interspersed with the kisses. 

“Xander,” he said, voice gravelly with arousal. 

Xander gasped, body tensing and eyes rolling back as he came. 

Xiang scooted back, cock slipping out from between Xander’s thighs and leaving them sticky and messy. Xander grimaced at the idea of sitting up and trying to clean it up. 

Xiang retrieved a towel, wet with warm water, and meticulously wiped between Xander’s thighs. Xander tried to hold back the way he jumped as Xiang rubbed over his hole, his sensitive cock and his thighs still rubbed a little raw. 

There wasn’t much to be done for the wet spot except to pull Xander back and away from it-- that was a problem for another day. 

Xiang pressed up against Xander’s back again, breath on the top notch of Xander’s back and hand on his ribs. 

“Xiang,” he said quietly. He waited for the responding hum before continuing, “Why did you ask about… anyone else?” 

Xiang scoffed, like it should be obvious. “Wanted to know who else saw the marks I leave on you,” he said, pressing his nose against the hickey on Xander’s shoulder. 

“Oh.”  _ Oh _ . 

\--

Xander woke slowly, sunlight streaming through the window shutters. He forgot to close them last night. To be fair, he’d been preoccupied. 

He could hear the creaking of the floors, knew the rest of the team was waking up, too. 

He also knew the soft, warm weight on his chest. Xiang. 

Somehow they’d shifted in the night so that Xander was on his back, Xiang nestled up to his side with his arm across Xander’s chest, head on his pec and their legs tangled together. 

Xander pulled the blanket up higher, under Xiang’s chin, and earned a sigh and a light squeeze around the chest. 

Two weeks ago Xander would be pulling away, sliding out before Xiang woke up. Something changed. Xander knew what changed, but he was fine without naming it. 

Two weeks ago, too, Xiang wouldn’t have stayed the night. Would’ve slipped back to his own room soon after Xander fell asleep, no doubt. 

That was comforting, if nothing else. Xander wasn’t the only one slowly, slowly changing. That admission settled on Xander’s chest beside Xiang. 

Xander put his arm around Xiang, pulled him in closer. He could feel himself drifting off again.

Xander jolted hard when the door swung open, Nicks and Tennyson bursting in and shouting something. 

It took Xander a second to understand-- a chant of “Wake up sleepyhead!” He clutched his pillow in his hand, ready to throw. 

Xiang rolled over toward them, “What the fuck?” he said, soft from sleep but still full of anger.

“Oh,” Nicks said, dodging Xander’s pillow and finally noticing Xiang. “Oh,  _ shit _ .”  

“Get the fuck out,” Xander grumbled. Nicks’ face was caught between shock and disbelief, and an overtone of amusement, but he grabbed at Tennyson’s shoulder and they left without hastily another word, Tennyson pulling the door shut softly behind them.

Xander lazily turned over toward Xiang, throwing a hand over his face again. God they were so annoying. 

But Xiang was tense.

“What’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong’?” Xiang repeated, giving Xander an incredulous look, “They just… Xander, are you not upset?”

Xander sighed.“Most of them probably figured it out anyway.”

“What?” He tensed further. “Figured what out, exactly?”

Xander froze. How could he put it? “Uh… that we’re sleeping together?”

Xiang swallowed heavily. “ _ What _ ?” he asked, his voice quieter.

_ Oh.  _ Xiang had no idea. 

“I mean, Adele brought it up a few weeks ago,” Xander said. He pulled back to look at Xiang. Xiang was staring at the ceiling intently, the line between his brows pinched. 

He spoke slowly. “You talked to Adele about this?”

“She’s gay, Xiang,” he said defensively. “And I’m pretty sure she and Serena and Becky have  _ something _ going on, right? And Talon and Hawk are clearly together, and Nicks and Tennyson—it doesn’t matter to any of them.”

“You never asked if it mattered to  _ me _ ,” Xiang said, voice soft and dangerously low. “Get off me.”

Xander, not willing to test Xiang, pulled back. “Xiang…”

Xiang sat up, his jaw twitching as he turned away from Xander to sit at the edge of the bed. He put his hands over his face, taking slow, measured breaths.

“Xiang, I'm sorry. I didn't think…” He reached out to touch him. 

That didn’t help. He shied from Xander’s touch, his shoulders pulling up. “Clearly you didn’t think. You don’t…” he sighed deeply, “understand. Fuck, of course you don’t. I guess it’s hard to when you live like  _ Xander Cage _ .” Xiang scrubbed a hand over his cheek and turned to look at Xander over his shoulder. “I’m not…” He sighed. “I’m not  _ out _ .”

Xander floundered, scrambling to think of something to say. 

Xiang let out a frustrated stream of air and stood. He grabbed up his shirt and pulled it on hastily, followed by his jeans.

“Whoa, whoa, Xiang, slow down,” Xander stood, uncertain how to fix this. “Talk to me.” 

“Why don’t you go talk to Adele?” Xiang spat. “ _ She’s _ gay too.” 

“Xiang,” he said, trying to sound neutral and calm Xiang down. 

Xiang just put his hand up. “Don’t. I'm leaving.” 

“You can't just  _ leave,  _ Xiang. Please,” he swallowed back the vulnerable edge in his voice. 

“I've been _trying_ to tell you I was leaving for weeks,” Xiang said under his breath as he swung the door open. 

Xiang looked back at him, lips pursed and eyes  _ intense _ as always. He hardened his jaw and slammed the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me comments im thirsty 
> 
> (also got dam blow jobs are harder (hehe) to write than expected lmfao)
> 
> (also also shoutout to 28ghosts for helping me out ily)


	5. Chapter 5

He felt sick.

Xander took a long shower, scrubbing at his skin harshly. He didn’t want to face the others, or be questioned, or _not_ questioned. It had been a long time since Xander felt like his life was under a magnifying glass, a long time since he found himself considering what his life looked like to others.

But now…

There were uncertainties that he felt he needed cleared, but at the same time he didn’t want to determine. Did Nicks and Tennyson go and tell everyone? Did they keep it to themselves, or even realize _what_ exactly they did? Did the team even know Xiang _left_?

Did Xiang hate him?

It was an hour later before he dragged himself out. There was no one in the hall, it didn't sound like anyone was in their rooms.

There was a cafe across from the inn where the innkeeper suggested they eat their breakfasts. Serena and Adele sat at an outside table, wearing sunglasses and sipping on smoothies. They beckoned him over casually, offering him a seat.

He went begrudgingly. A waitress came by and took his order for brunch.

It felt surreal, how normal Serena and Adele were as they chatted over their French toast. Did they not know? Did they not realize?

"What are your plans for the day, Xander? We were thinking of hiking. Nicks and Tennyson took a bus into the next city for bumper cars,” Adele asked. He didn’t trust the even, almost kind tone she asked it with. She knew.

"Oh," Xander said. "I might go rock climbing," he shrugged. He didn’t really feel like it, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say, and it was what Xiang had suggested the night before. He fiddled with his glass of water, moving it to the side and running his finger through the circle of condensation left behind.

Serena nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "The climbing around here is nice."

Xander just nodded, a faint smile on his face. Of course Serena knew about the climbing. Adele was watching him, he knew, and he looked down at the napkin in front of him.

"Xiang left this morning, did you know?" Serena asked. Adele's gaze flicked to her briefly before returning to Xander. She wasn't smiling, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh," Xander said. He wanted to feign ignorance but his low, mumbled response gave him away. Of course he knew.

"He was in a hurry. We could've stayed in town closer to the airport if he told us he was going to leave so early," Serena said, shaking her head at Xiang’s antics, Xander supposed.

Xander's breakfast was set down in front of him, and he used it as an excuse eat quietly for the next few minutes. He listened to Adele and Serena make small talk, discussing their plans for the day, Adele showing Serena pictures of some cafe she'd found in town the night before.

"Xander, did you ask Talon if he wanted to come with you?" Serena asked him suddenly. "I'm sure he'd go with you; then you'd have a belaying partner."

Xander shook his head-- no he hadn't asked.

"He's eating breakfast inside with Hawk, you should talk to him before you go."

Xander took another bite of egg and nodded.

This was too weird, even if Xander was relieved that they weren’t pitying him or trying to pry, but at the same time, Xander didn’t know what to say when those closest around him didn’t know exactly what was going on with him.

He finished up quick, leaving some change on the table for his meal and going inside to find Talon. It was awkward to approach the little table in the back corner where Talon sat with Hawk and Becky. Hawk was eating something, something that looked like macaroni and applesauce but surely couldn’t be, while Becky and Talon watched in uncertain disgust.

“Hey X,” Talon greeted him as he sat down opposite Becky.

Xander nodded to him. “Serena suggested I ask if you wanted to come rock climbing with me.”

“Sounds like fun! Are you going now?”

“Whenever,” Xander shrugged. Becky screwed her brows together at him, maybe concerned with his apathetic tone.

“Alright, let me just grab my day bag.” He stood quickly, rustling a hand through Hawk’s hair and saying to Becky, “Make sure that shit doesn’t make him sick.” It gave Xander a half second pause before he stood too, following Talon out.

-

The hike up to the cliff face is nice, the burn in his thighs giving him something to focus on. Xander remembered Xiang mentioning needing space from Talon-- mentioning he talked _a lot_.

Xander knew what he meant now. Hearing about what he and Hawk got up to the night before-- they had some fun in town, by the sounds of it-- was another nice distraction.

He had to admit, he was a little nervous to be belayed by a guy a half foot shorter than him; he let Talon climb first.

Regularly, Xander wouldn’t have anyone belay for him-- he was an extreme athlete, after all, and free climbing was more his pace. He watched Talon reach the bell easily, braced for Talon to lean back and walk himself back down. Sure, the course was easy for them, but if Talon didn’t comment on it, Xander wouldn’t either.

The third time Talon hit the bell, after he and Xander had switched on and off, he turned back to Xander called down that he should take a picture of him. He made some clicking sound and posed. When he got back to the bottom, he took a look at the picture, laughing and adding some filter before sending it to Hawk.

Xander had wondered about those two before-- how they were inseparable, really, and how they were extraordinarily comfortable with each other. He glanced away from Talon, grinning down at his phone, no doubt reading Hawk’s response. Xander surveyed where looked to be the best footholds to get started on his next climb.

Two hours later, they stopped at a restaurant on the way back down to the town. Talon ordered a beer while Xander got another one of those sodas he liked so much.

Talon chatted aimlessly as they sipped, mentioning some other town he’d seen when he was at the top of the cliff, or how he’d spotted something at the airport the other day, or commending Xander on a tricky stunt he’d pulled on one of their recent missions.

Xander started getting the feeling it wasn’t so random, though, when he brought up the music Nicks had played the night before when they were all playing cards, how he’d been surprised Xiang hadn’t joined them for a game.

“You and Xiang last night,” he said, smile carefully measured as he sipped his beer. “In town.”

“Yeah, he saved me from a drunk Becky,” Xander said, measuring up his own smile.

“Hawk told me.”

“You’ve all worked together for years, huh?”

Talon grinned. “ _Years_.”

“Then you know each other pretty well,” Xander said, his tone letting Talon know he wasn’t talking about Xiang.

“Hah,” Talon said. He didn’t answer.

Xander took another drink of his soda. He wanted to ask Talon about Xiang-- why he was in the closet when Talon and Hawk were so _obviously_ involved, whether Talon even knew about Xiang.

Xander didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe something like a shovel talk. But Talon finished his beer silently-- the first silence they’d had all morning. When he set down his empty bottle, he grinned and stood.

“Ready to head back, then?”

-

The rest of the hike seemed normal, for the most part. Just small talk, with a pause every so often where it felt like Talon was about to say something and changed his mind, grinning and bring up some new subject.

He was glad when the inn was within sight. He was going straight back to sleep.

“See you,” he said to Talon when they got inside and up the stairs to their floor, turning to his room. Another shower was starting to sound like a good idea.  

He didn’t realize Talon was still at his heel until the door didn’t shut behind him. Serena was sitting on his bed, legs crossed. She nodded for Talon to close the door.

“What the hell?”

She gestured Talon to the corner of the bed where a laptop was sitting, and Talon sat beside her happily, opening it up.

“We need to talk, Xander,” she said simply. “Take a seat.”

“I’ll stand.”

Serena smiled thinly, her eyes sharp at the corners in that familiar, knowing way.

“I think you know what we’re going to talk about.”

Xander grit his teeth. So she feigned ignorance this morning. And she set him up to go with Talon, to endure whatever the last hour of stunted conversations was.

"No, maybe I don't."

"We noticed you and Xiang were having issues this morning."

Xander raised one eyebrow. After letting him think that the matter had stayed private all morning-- or at least that it would stay private-- she was just going to drop this on him. In front of Talon, too (who he knew _knew_ , but it was still something he’d prefer not to talk to his ex-girlfriend about in front of an acquaintance like him).

"Put your headphones on, Talon," she said. No doubt she saw his exact train of thought. Serena was amazing, even when she used her talents for irritating things like… whatever was about to happen.

Talon put his earbuds in without looking away from the computer screen. It looked like he was checking flights. Serena folded her hands over her knees. "Nicks feels terrible. They followed Xiang to the airport. He already had tickets booked by the time he got there, but they couldn't find where he was going."

Xander leaned back against the door heavily. "So? Let him go."

Serena looked at him for a long moment, scrutinizing. She wasn't surprised, evidently, but she wasn't pleased, her lips curled down. Xander had the creeping feeling she was breaking up with him all over again. He huffed-- twice in one day and with two people he wasn't even dating.

"I was hoping you and Xiang would work out, I really was," she said. She said it so casually, like she was reading the forecast for the day. "But you just don't let things work out for you, do you?"

Xander wanted to argue, he really did. He glanced at the back of Talon's head and back at Serena.

"It wasn't my fault." _Xander_ didn't know Xiang wasn't out. Which-- which Serena shouldn't know either. "Wait--"

She put her hand up, having followed Xander's line of thoughts from his expressions. "That's irrelevant. I know it wasn't your fault, and I know Xiang is impossible, sometimes. He's just as hardheaded as you," she muttered the last bit. "But it's all _you_ making you mope about here. The Xander Cage I expected would've been following him to the airport himself."

Xander took a deep breath, trying not to roll his eyes. Maybe if Serena had clued Xiang into his _whole team knowing he was gay_ , this situation would never have come up. "Xiang doesn't want that."

Serena tightened her jaw. "I think it's _you_ who doesn't want to do that."

"What do you mean by that?" Maybe she was right. It didn't piss him off any less that she was trying to push into his personal life-- _their_ personal life. And Xiang, certainly, would be just as pissed as Xander.

"Xander, you used to keep a post-it note that said, if I remember correctly, 'rule number one, don't fall.' You've got issues with intimacy."

Alright, alright that's fair. But _fuck_ that word. Intimacy. He curled his hand into a fist.

“Yelena fucked you up, I know. You’ve got baggage, Cage. Heaven knows it’s why _we_ didn’t work out.” She took a deep breath, sighing. “But,” she continued before he could interject, “Regardless. Xiang is part of _your_ team. You can go to clean up _this_ ,” she said, gesturing vaguely, “or you can go as a teammate. Or if you’re really too fucking scared, Talon or I can go.”

Xander considered her. “You’re talking like you know where he’s going. We don’t know shit.”

Serena poked Talon’s shoulder, and he glanced back at her before taking out his earbuds again.

“Tell him what we know.”

“Right,” he said. “His phone was turned off after 10, which means his flight was after that.” He scrolled through the flight numbers on his screen. “A few weeks ago he’d mentioned something about going home, so I bet that’s where he’s going.”

“From the files and details I’ve picked up over the years,” Serena said, “I’ve figured he has distant family in San Francisco and Hong Kong, and more immediate family in Shanghai.”

“A flight left for Dubai with a connection to Shanghai at 10:15 this morning.”

Xander looked between them, brow raised. "Alright, so one of us shows up in Shanghai. Then what? Not like a few million people live there."

Serena just smiled.

"I shouldn't have even asked, huh?"

She pulled out a slip of paper. "If you're interested in going, I've got a list of addresses."

"I don't want to know how you tracked this down."

"We're good at what we do," she said, her smile growing wider, accompanied by Talon's as he looked over his shoulder.

"So Cage, are _you_ going or are we? I've got to warn you, he'll be pissed if we come to clean up this mess."

Xander looked at her. "So you know what the 'mess' is." It was obvious, but he wanted _her_ to say it.

"Honestly Xander," she said. "I thought your whole thing was being observant."

Xander glared-- she was right, but he wasn't happy about it.

“I told you, he doesn’t want me tracking him down.”

“Alright, but _to hell with_ what Xiang wants. What do you want, Xander? You want to let it end like this, or do you want to go after him?”

Xander grimaced. “Like in one of those romances, Serena? You think I’m gonna go sweep him off his feet and he’ll fall into my arms or something? This ain’t a movie. We don’t feel that way”

Serena’s smile tightened, smug around the edges. “ _I_ never said anything about feelings.” She swept her hair over her shoulder. “That’s all on you.” Xander swallowed, frowning and looking off to his window, which was still open. Talon, thankfully, was pointedly looking at his laptop. Good man. "Are you going or not?"

"I--" he hesitated. "I will."

"Great, your ticket's booked."

"You better pack fast," Serena said.

Xander sighed longsufferingly.  

-

Xander was on a flight within two hours. A layover in Dubai and another ten hour flight and he'd be touching down in Shanghai. It'd be too late for anything but to crash at the hotel Talon and Serena were booking for him.

He looked over the addresses that Serena found for him. There were clubs, bars, home addresses, even one post office. Xander had to wonder what kind of dirt Serena had on the rest of them if she could find this much on Xiang.

He didn't try to wonder just how much Serena had been able to observe of them. Although Xander hadn't known that Xiang was trying to keep them _secret_ , he'd never tried to be too obvious about it either. Serena had seen them in the hotel that morning that Xander had forgotten his keys, sure. She knew him-- both of them-- better than anyone else on the team, probably.

He wondered how long Xiang’s team knew he was gay-- wondered how they’d all decided to let him think they didn’t. That line of thought had his stomach twisting into knots. He leaned his chair back and tried to force himself to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work well.

What was he going to say to Xiang when he found him? If he found him? What was Xiang going to say to _him_?

Xander couldn't get the image of Xiang storming out of his room out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd pulled Xander against him just the night before. That uncomfortable, stifling possessiveness filled up his chest again, making it hard to breathe.

But even so, Xander didn’t know how he’d approach Xiang. Xander himself hadn’t been in the closet since high school; he wasn’t too in-your-face about it, but he never concealed his history of guys and girls. He knew what it felt like, though, to suddenly find more people knowing about you than you’d intended. It took Xander a while to recognize it, but Xiang had been angry and _scared_.

Xander had seen a lot on Xiang’s face-- the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed at him or with him, the shocked pout of his lips when he pulled that fast one during Mario Kart, his lidded eyes when he was in ecstasy.

Xander bit the inside of his cheek. He knew what that feeling was. Admitting it to himself didn’t make him feel any better. He pushed it back-- high altitude, too little water was making him think funny. He hailed a flight attendant and asked for water.

Because Xiang hated him now. Probably. He knew he did. He was just going to Shanghai to make amends, to end it for real so Xiang could come back to the team. Xander tapped his foot mindlessly, full of nervous energy. He needed to tire himself out so he could _sleep_.

-

The taxi area outside the Shanghai airport was stiflingly hot, even after the sun set. It was muggy. Xander was exhausted.

The hotel that Serena texted him the address of was alright; Xander had been in worse. Far worse. Far better, too, but he wouldn't mention it.

The balcony had a nice view, at least. He set his stuff down on his little twin bed and opened the sliding door, leaning out over the low railing.

Shanghai was huge. He'd been to the city a few years ago, back when he was travelling the world under a new name every week. When the world thought Xander Cage was dead.

He hadn't spent much time here. He had a day or two layover, went to a few clubs maybe. He never would've thought he'd be coming back, especially not under these circumstances.

And he still had to decide exactly what capacity he was here in. Was he coming as a teammate, a team leader? A friend? A _lover_?

Xander wet his lips. He supposed, in order to decide what role he was really fulfilling here, he had to decide how he felt about Xiang. What did he want from him?

The sick thing was that Xander knew. He knew he _wanted_  Xiang. He knew he wanted to fuck the guy senseless in every way he'd be allowed, but he also wanted to take him out to dinner, to lunch. Hell he'd even go for brunch. He wanted to play video games with him and he wanted to kick ass with him.

He just wanted to go back to what they’d had up until that morning. He wouldn't mind keeping it unnamed, keeping it secret, keeping it casual if it meant that he could keep Xiang spooned up against his back in the morning.

But it didn't seem like that's what Xiang wanted. He didn't want to scare Xiang off.

He'd rather Xiang come back as a teammate and never looked at Xander again than not at all.

By the time Xander fell asleep that night, he still had no idea how he was going to approach Xiang when he found him.

-

Most of the addresses on the list Serena gave him were within walking distance of his hotel. He spent the next day scoping them out, figuring which one would be the best to hit up the first night. A lot of them were nightlife locations, which might take him a while to hit them all up if he were to give each of them half a night to see if Xiang showed up.

"Don't ask for him by name," Serena had texted him after he arrived. "I don't exactly know who they'd know Xiang as, or how they'd know him. Best not to associate yourself with him without caution."

It was sweet Serena was concerned-- but this wasn't Xander's first time around this type of mission.

The third place on the list was a room in an apartment complex. he watched it from the street, noting what kind of people were coming and going. Businessmen coming back from their day, women in black skirts and hair in tight buns. Families going out to the park. It was a normal apartment complex, it seemed.

Xander found a little hole in the wall restaurant with a view of the first address to eat dinner. It wasn't quite dark yet, so the queue wasn't too long. He kept a careful eye out for slicked hair the way Xiang always did his.

Which didn't really help. Apparently, it wasn't too uncommon of a hairstyle.

He finished up the noodles he'd been able to order with the little Mandarin he spoke, straightened his jacket, and went out to join the line.

Xander never had an issue getting into these joints. He wasn't necessarily the most handsome, but he had the swag and the broad shoulders to pull off the look of any club.  

He found himself a table in the back, with a view of the bar and the dance floor. He wasn't sure how Xiang was associated with this place-- he hadn't asked Serena before he left. He might be looking for different cues if Xiang had been a bouncer here versus knowing the owner's son, or something.

It was nearly midnight, about the time Xander was going to head to the next club on the list when he spotted him. He'd been there for some time, he must have been, based on how loosely he held the shot glass as he threw it back.

He was leaning against the bar, a girl squeezed up tight to his side. Xiang's other hand was on her waist. Xander blinked back his shock as he watched him order another drink-- two more drinks, as one was set down in front of the girl as well.

Xiang said something to the bartender before steering the girl toward the dance floor with him. Xander grit his teeth as he pulled the girl close and danced to the beat of the C Pop song.

Was this what Xiang ran away to do? He didn't even know Xander was here-- Xander had no right to take it so personally, but there was a hot, raw feeling bubbling up in his stomach.

A waitress came by, said something he couldn't understand as she set down a drink. He tried to stop her, to hand it back, but she turned and disappeared.

He smelled it. It was sweet and clear.

He hurriedly found Xiang in the crowded dance floor again, almost dropped his drink when he found Xiang staring right back at him with his face in the girl's neck, hands on her hips as they danced real close.

Caught by surprise and embarrassment, he turned away quickly, setting the drink down. What the hell? Xiang was such a prick.

That raw feeling itched, and he steeled himself, looking back up and preparing to give Xiang his most pissed off look.

But he wasn't there. Xander straightened his back, surprised once again, quickly surveying the club. He spotted the back of Xiang's coat where he was going out the door beside the bar, his arm still around the girl. A spike of-- anger?-- washed over Xander and he was on his feet immediately.

He followed Xiang onto the street, walking quickly to close the gap that Xiang's head start had earned him.

He clapped his hand on Xiang's shoulder. "Hey," he said as coldly as he could.

Xiang looked over his shoulder at Xander coolly, arm still secure around the girl's waist. The interested look the girl gave, glancing between Xander and Xiang, irritated Xander incredibly. Like she wanted to see Xiang fight him, just to put Xiang's skills on display.

A small, infuriating curl at the corner of Xiang's mouth made Xander want to punch him in the face. Maybe she’d end up getting her show. Xiang turned back to the girl, said something in Mandarin that Xander didn't catch, but obviously disappointed her. He nodded back to the door, retracting his arm.

Her pout satisfied the rawness rubbing in Xander's stomach, but only minutely. Like a cold shower, suddenly having what felt like the build up of a fight being doused, and Xander had no clue what to expect now.

Xiang crossed his arms as she went, turning to face Xander square-on. His mouth was pouted, brows pinched.

"Not that I should have been, but I was surprised to see you here." Whereas before he'd been smug and challenging, without the girl at his side he’d slid into back into his anger as Xander had expected him to.

"Well," Xander said, somewhat at a loss for how to respond, "Triple-X looks after its own."

"Triple-X outs its own, too." It wasn't as clever as Xander had expected from Xiang. But now, looking up close, Xander saw the flush to Xiang's cheek, the way he held himself somewhat askew. He was drunk. Xiang turned and began walking.

"I came to talk to you about that."

"You couldn't wait for when I got back?" Xander kept pace beside him.

"To be fair, I didn't know if you _were_ coming back."

Xiang brows shot up. He was looking down at his feet, not up at Xander, but Xander knew his expression nonetheless. "You really are full of yourself, Cage." He kicked a can that was discarded on the sidewalk. "You always think I'm reacting to whatever you do. I have my own life, you know that?"

"I know that," Xander said uneasily. _I know you have one, but you never let me see it,_ he wanted to say. He wanted to see it. Damn it, the cavity in his chest and his stomach _ached_. It was like Xiang had crawled in when he wasn't paying attention and started sandpapering away. Everything he did just made it worse.

Xander was careful to pay attention to where they were walking. He didn't know how mad Xiang was-- would he take him out somewhere in Shanghai that Xander wouldn't be able to get back from and leave him there? Xiang was an asshole on his best days, he didn't know what he'd do when drunk and angry.

"I said I was leaving, and you thought I wasn't coming back," he scoffed.

"I didn't know," Xander said, trying to shrug casually. There wasn't really a casual option for this now, though. Any casualness he could've gotten away with went out the window when he followed Xiang halfway around the world.

"Well, I didn't know you had been--" _telling Talon about seeing family_ , he was going to say. He hoped that Xiang didn't catch it. Like Serena said, Xiang would be pissed if he knew the team was helping him out.

If he did notice, he didn't mention it. They were heading away from the bustling city center, away from where all the addresses that Serena had suggested to him were located. More and more apartment complexes sprung up on either side of the streets.

"So how do you like the city?" Xiang asked. Xander hadn't noticed him slip out a cigarette and light it up until he was exhaling in Xander's face.

"I haven't had much time to check it out."

"Ah, well," Xiang said. "I thought you'd been here before."

"Didn't have much time then either."

Xiang took a drag. "Probably won't have much time now, either, huh?"

Xander swallowed. He didn't know why he was nervous. The streetlights were further and further between. The muggy heat settled at the back of his neck.

"Where's your hotel, anyway? Don't want you getting lost," Xiang said with a wink. Xander knew better than to think his offer was anything innocent. His sudden switch in demeanor was suspicious at best.

"I don't have a room yet," Xander said quickly. He remembered Xiang using that line on him.

Xiang hummed. "Well, luckily we're in my neighborhood." He stopped at the steps of one of the complexes. He nodded to his cigarette, asking for a minute to finish it. Xander shrugged. He glanced back up the block, memorizing how they'd gotten here. Xiang must be drunk if he’s showing Xander where he lives. Or he trusts him. Xander winced; he doubted that.

When Xiang finished, he flicked the butt away and turned wordlessly to the door, expecting Xander to follow.

Xander, naturally, did. The elevator ride was silent as well, more tense than the silences before. Xander didn't know what to expect once they got to his apartment. They were going to fight or fuck, and Xander didn't know which he'd prefer if he were given a choice.

Ideally, neither. Ideally they could sit down and talk through this mess-- no doubt, Xiang had a few things on his mind. He stopped himself from laughing at how their relationship was-- he was here to _talk_ , but there was no way that’d happen first thing. They had to _pregame_ it.

Xiang took a few tries to unlock the door, making Xander’s small smile widen. He remembered just how uncoordinated Xiang was when he was drunk. He put his hand on Xiang's, taking the key and unlocking it easily. Xiang flashed a small, awkward smile in his direction before pushing the door open.

As Xander entered, Xiang was already tearing off his jacket and throwing it beside the door before turning to slam the door shut behind Xander, Xander caught in between.

"Xiang, we should talk," he said, trying to push Xiang back toward the living room he saw past the kitchenette. Xiang was warm as he pressed up against him, smelled of alcohol as he nosed against Xander's jaw.

"Shut up," Xiang said, quiet yet firm.

Xander put his hands on Xiang's shoulders, determined to push him off.

"Shut _up_." he said, more biting as he pushed back against Xander's hands. "Just shut up."

Xander would argue more-- if he were so inclined. As it were, with Xiang mouthing so familiarly at the sensitive skin behind his ear, Xander was not feeling particularly persistent.

Xiang's hands were warm where they pushed Xander's shirt up and out of the way, feeling the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Xiang kissed down his neck, shoving a leg between Xander's and pressing in closer.

"I wanna fuck you," Xiang said, his accent heavier than usual under the influence.

Xander's spine tingled, warmth flaring at the base of his spine as Xiang ground against his hip. Xander wasn’t surprised nor turned off by the turn, his earlier anger dissipating like rain off of hot blacktop.

Xander spread his hands down over Xiang’s lower back and into the waist of his jeans, taking handfuls of his ass and pulling him up tight against him.

Xiang bit Xander's lip, pulling at it playfully and sliding his tongue along his lower teeth.

"C'mon," Xiang said impatiently. Xander had no idea what he was impatient for, he hadn't made it clear. Xiang was so unintelligible once he got a few drinks in him. Xander could guess, of course, but he didn't want to be accommodating like that. Just because he wasn’t actively mad didn’t mean he was going to be nice.

"What do you want?"

Xiang grunted, annoyed. "Don't play stupid, Xander," he said.

"Play dumb, that's the phrase. Play dumb," he breathed against Xiang’s mouth.

"Whatever," Xiang said, tugging on his sleeves. "Take your shirt off." He stepped back as Xander pulled it off, Xiang messing with his belt buckle.

"Fuck, you're so eager," he laughed. "You got a bed or are we doing this right here?"

Xiang grinned. "Wouldn't you like that," he said, "Live for the thrills right? You didn't ask if I had roommates."

Xander wanted to roll his eyes and make some clever remark about how Xiang couldn't possibly have roommates-- what Triple-X agent would keep a secret apartment _and_ a secret roommate? That's stupid. These thoughts slipped his mind, though, when Xiang shoved his hands down his pants and palmed his dick through his boxers.

Xander followed him into the bedroom, keeping his eyes forward, off the personal decor that covered the walls. Xiang stumbled over to the side of the bed, sitting gracelessly. He pulled off his shirt so as to distract from his gawky movements, but Xander had noticed, suppressed a teasing smile.

"You're so uncoordinated when you drink."

Xiang scowled at him, laying back on the bed and stretching his arms over his head. He breathed longsufferingly. "Yeah?" he rolled his neck out, straightening out kinks that Xander could hear pop. "If I'm so uncoordinated, why don't you finger yourself?"

Xander almost choked as he braced one knee on the edge of the bed. "What?"

"What, I told you I wanted to fuck you. If I'm so uncoordinated, maybe I can't finger you right, you know? Maybe it'd be better if I watched." He scooted up on his elbows, looked at Xander challengingly. "Unless you're too shy."

Xander remembered the way he'd first thought of their relationship-- as a game. On the surface level, this was out of character for Xiang, who loved to be in control. On the other hand, it was _exactly_ in character. Xander's face burned at the idea of fingering himself for Xiang, following his instructions. He wet his lips.

"I'm not too shy," Xander said. "Move over," he said, pushing at Xiang's hip. Xiang grinned at him, teeth flashing before he rolled over toward the head of the bed to grab a bottle of lube and hand it to Xander.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said cheekily, hands sliding down Xander's hips possessively, making him shiver. Xander shed his pants quickly, kicking off his socks and shoes and laying back on the pillows at the head of the bed. Xiang took his pants off leisurely, folding them and putting them on his dresser before settling back between Xander's thighs, hands running up the outsides and making Xander shiver even more as he squeezed out some lube onto his fingers. He took his time warming it up before reaching down between his legs.

"Ah," Xiang said, grabbing his wrist. "One second." He grabbed a pillow from beside Xander's head and tapping his hips, shoving it under him. His hips elevated, Xander's face burned with the exposed feeling.

Xiang sat back, watching Xander as he nervously, slowly circled his hole with two slicked fingers. Xander bit his lip harshly, just this side of breaking the skin, as he slipped one fingertip inside himself.

He could feel himself seize up at the intrusion, spent a few moment just sliding the tip in and out of himself and hoping he could trick himself into relaxing.

"Breathe," Xiang said huskily, his hands sliding down the outsides of Xander's thighs. "Touch yourself, it'll help."

Xander hesitated a moment before taking both his hands back and pouring more lube between them, on his fingers and his palm. This time, he slipped the finger in further, to the second knuckle, and at the same time took himself in hand and pulled leisurely. He couldn't quite bite back the gasp as he was momentarily overwhelmed with the sensation of his own hands, as well as the circles that Xiang was running his thumbs in over Xander's inner thighs where he held Xander's legs open.

"Thrust your fingers more."

The unusual low timbre of his voice made Xander gasp, his hand obeying Xiang's command before he could even fully register what he meant. It wasn't long before the slide was easy, having acclimated enough that the stretch of his second finger was just bordering pleasant.

He spread his legs wider, trying to angle his wrist to push deeper and ignoring Xiang's light laughter as he arched against his hand. Honestly, Xander was surprised he didn't get a smack on the wrist for adding his second finger without Xiang telling him to.

"Curl your fingers," Xiang said.

Xander obeyed, pulling them out the way he remembered Xiang doing to him, and gasped when he found his prostate. Xiang's palms were hot against the inside of his thighs, and Xander paused, a sudden moment of clarity. He was really spread out on Xiang's bed in a strange city, fingering himself because Xiang asked him to.

He pushed that thought away, throwing his head back against the pillows and thrusting his hand more intently, curling and twisting and teasing himself.

Xander opened his eyes-- hadn’t realized he’d closed them-- when he heard the tell tale sounds of Xiang touching himself. Xiang was watching him intently. His face was still visibly pink, even when shadowed in the dark bedroom. His other hand was still holding Xander’s thigh.

“Are you good?” he asked abruptly when Xander’s hand slowed.

Xander swallowed thickly, sliding his fingers out and feeling his muscles clutch at the emptiness. He nodded.

Xiang grins, leans over Xander to reach into his nightstand and grabbing a condom. He tears it open easily, rolls it on. He grabs Xander’s thighs, about to pull them flush together, when Xander throws a hand up against his chest.

“Uh,” he said dumbly. He was suddenly overwhelmed, the image of him on his back in front of Xiang already so much. “Let me ride you.”

Xiang raised an eyebrow, hands stilling on his thighs. He shrugged easily, dropping Xander’s legs back to the bed. He let Xander flip onto his knees before he laid back on the pillows in Xander’s place. He leisurely stretched his arms above his head.

Hands settled on Xander’s hips as he straddled Xiang, squeezing lightly. Pressure built at the base of Xander’s spine, and he scrambled to center his weight comfortably, reaching behind himself to grip Xiang’s dick, hastily lining it up with his entrance.

Slowly, _slowly_ , he sunk down onto Xiang’s lap, setting his jaw against letting his mouth gape open like his instincts urged him to. Xiang’s hands, more callused than Xander had noticed before, swept up his hips, over his waist, and back down.

Xander inhaled deeply once he’d bottomed out, taking a moment to breathe, take in the feeling of Xiang’s skin against his legs, the sensation of being so _full_. Then Xiang rotated his pelvis pressing just that much further into Xander and making him gasp again.

Xander bit his cheek, rolling his hips just to get that bit of friction, shifting Xiang inside him-- Xander shivered at just how much _control_ he had, now. _Control_. Fuck. He rolled his hips faster, sighing when Xiang moved his hands back to stretch out above his head, watching Xander work.

He braced his hands on Xiang’s chest, leaning forward to come off of Xiang an inch or so and roll his hips back down. He bit his lip, forced his eyes to stay open to take in the way Xiang sighed. He remembered that first time he and Xiang slept together-- Xiang, tipsy and sprawled out under him, cheeks pink. Xander had wanted to kiss him then. He did so now.

Kneeling over him like this, Xander’s dick rubbed against Xiang’s abs deliciously, and Xander couldn’t help but thrust against him, even if it minimized how much he was moving on Xiang’s hips.

Xiang planted his feet and thrust up against Xander’s ass harshly, making him gasp and jolt forward.

Xiang swallowed Xander's gasp, murmuring "Lean back," against his lips.

Xander bit back his groan as he pushed himself back onto his knees, bracing instead on Xiang's thighs. He rolled his hips again, slowly, just testing the new angle, and his mouth dropped open when Xiang's dick grinded right against that sweet spot. He rolled again, thighs shaking lightly. "Oh."

Now, the image of him fucking himself on Xiang's cock, his own dick bobbing, didn't miss Xander. Even as he maintained his control, the vulnerability of the position made him bite his lip.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, his hips moving faster, pace picking up as he pulled further off Xiang's lap to slam his ass back down against his thighs. Xander threw his head back, throat exposed as he groaned from deep inside his chest.

Xiang put his hand on Xander's chest, then, the other running his palm up and down Xander's thighs, no doubt feeling his muscles bunch and relax as he bounced on Xiang's hips. A thumb teased at Xander's nipple and he couldn't do anything other than grip Xiang's legs tighter and gasp before the hand was moving, traveling down over his tight abdominals and wrapping around Xander's dick.

He pulled, his grip too loose to really do it for Xander, but the touch drove a bolt of heat down Xander's spine, making his back arch and his head throw back even further. He let out an embarrassing _sob_ when Xiang teased his nail over the slit, knowing Xiang's fingers were probably already sticky with his precome. Xiang rocked his hips up into Xander, just lightly, meeting his downward motions.

The lewd, wet sounds filled Xander's ears, all of his attention on the hand on his dick, the sweat gathering in the crooks of his knees and the palms of his hands where he clutched Xiang, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach and base of his spine-- the heavy, warm pressure of Xiang's cock in his ass. His hips protested against the position, as he wasn't used to pushing his muscles quite this way.

He leaned forward again, trying to keep his hips rotated in a way that he'd hit that spot just right while centering his weight again. It was more teasing, glancing now, but it was still satisfying. He could pull off more, now, really feel the wet friction. He was getting so, so close, and Xiang's weak grip on his dick was frustrating, _teasing_.

And then it was gone. He grabbed Xander's hip instead, massaging the stickiness off his hand into Xander's skin.

Xander groaned from deep in his chest, relating exactly how frustrated he was, and put his hands on Xiang's shoulders. He grinded back against Xiang's hips roughly, ready to come right then, whether or not Xiang helped him along.

Xiang knocked his hands off his shoulders suddenly, grabbing his upper arms and pushing them, pinning them behind Xander's back. Xander fell forward onto Xiang's chest, gasping in surprise. His face was in Xiang's hair, suddenly, kneeling over Xiang's body as he continued to grip his biceps hard enough to bruise. Xiang slid nearly almost out of Xander before he widened his planted feet and thrust back in, _hard_. The air was knocked out of Xander's lungs, his thighs tensing on either side of Xiang's waist.

Xiang let his hips fall back to the bed, away from Xander, before thrusting up again, faster and harder. And he did it again, again, his pace leaving Xander gasping, trying to say _something_ he didn't even know, but taking his breath away before he ever could.

Xiang's mouth was on his collar bone, wet open mouthed kisses pressed anywhere he could manage with the occasional tease of teeth and tongue.

"Sh-shit, Xiang," he gasped, arching his chest into Xiang's face, chasing more sensation.

Xander could feel how slick Xiang's stomach was with their sweat and Xander's precome mingling. He wriggled his hips, trying to get some friction against it.

Xiang shifted so that one hand grabbed Xander's arm on the opposite side, keeping his arms out of the way and trapped as his other hand reached between them to jerk Xander's dick without breaking his pace. Xander thrust into his hand as best he could with the way he was kneeling, held in place as Xiang took him.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," he said, every muscle in his body seizing up. He was _so close_ . "Shit, oh _god_ Xiang, _fuck me_ ." He was sobbing, desperate, just on the cusp of release. Xiang shifted and his next thrust hit his prostate straight on, stars popping in Xander's vision. “Fuck, _yes, yes fuck_ right there, ah _fuck Xiang I love you,_ shit.”

He came hard, his thighs making the bed quiver with him, his shoulders beginning to protest the way he was being held, his abdomen seizing up. The heat shot from his pelvis to the tips of his toes and his fingers, and he went limp over Xiang even as he fucked Xander through it, biting Xander's collarbone as he pushed through his own orgasm, nails biting into Xander’s biceps.

As they laid there, Xander became hyper aware of the sweat and come drying between them, how the room was uncomfortably hot. Even so, the pleasant burn in his muscles prevented him from moving. Xiang dropped his arms, settled them on either side of his head. Xiang's face was still flat against his chest.

They were breathing harshly, Xander's thighs and abs spasming in aftershocks. There wasn't nothing beyond the sweat and breathing and warmth of their skin flush against each other.

Xander sighed delicately as a hand smoothed down his spine, settling on his ass. Xiang shifted them until he slipped out. Xander shuddered, content.

Once his breathing returned to normal, he flopped to the side, overwhelmed by how _hot_ it was. Too hot to keep touching Xiang, too hot to pull a blanket over him. He felt Xiang shifting beside him, maybe heard him talking, but Xander was out before he could absorb whatever he was saying.

-

Xander woke slowly the next morning.  He was still covered in sweat-- Xiang needed to invest in an AC system. The stickiness of his body made him dread moving, but when he slid a hand down his chest he found it was less disgusting than he could’ve expected.

He rolled to the edge of the bed, glancing around blearily for where his boxers had ended up. He pulled them on slowly, his body still aching pleasantly from the night before. His arm, now sporting five crescent shaped welts, protested as he stretched.

He wandered out of the bedroom, carefully making his way further down the hall. It looked different illuminated in the morning light. The walls had pictures, paintings, but nothing that Xander could make out as _personal_ , exactly. There was a glass box with some medals on display. He filed that away for later. 

The hall opened into an open kitchenette-living room. The far wall had a glass sliding door that revealed a balcony on which Xiang sat. The door was closed, and his back was facing Xander.

Xander helped himself to a glass of water before he slid the door open slowly, stepping out into the muggy morning air. He leaned against the balcony ledge, elbows straight and supporting his weight on the palms of his hands. He looked out over the bustling streets below. Xiang puffed out a ring of smoke.

It smelled like early morning, even through the smog and even this far up and even in such an unfamiliar place. Xander felt pretty good about this morning. Maybe they could find a breakfast place—Xiang probably knew a good one, or knew who to ask—and talk over the mess that Xander had made.

Xiang killed his cigarette on the ledge and turned to lean his hip against it. Xander turned and smiled at him, but Xiang did not return it even a little bit. He had shadows under his eyes, a bit of stubble on his jawline.

“So what’d come all this way for, Cage?”

“You,” he said, his voice scratchy.

Xiang gives him a disgruntled side glance as he takes another drag on his cigarette. He waited for Xander to keep going.

“We need to talk--”

“Do you remember what you said?” Xiang interrupted him suddenly, exhaling in a puff.

Xander’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“Last night. Do you remember?”

He took one hand off the ledge, running it over his face. What had he said? He remembered not quite having control of his mouth at one point-- at the point that Xiang was railing him within an inch of his life. _Oh._ “Yeah, I remember.” _I love you_. He’d said that. Something squirmed in his chest uncomfortably.

Xiang didn’t move for a while. Then he pulled his pack out and lit another cigarette. Xander was peeved by that—did Xiang usually smoke this much? He’d been smoking like a damn furnace this whole trip. He took one long drag, two long drags, looking over the streets that Xander had been watching before.

“Did you mean it?”

Xander tried to mask his grimace. Even when Xiang wasn’t watching him, he knew the man would see somehow. When he was doing all that introspecting, he wasn’t planning on _saying_ any of it. Another reason he shouldn’t have slept with him. After all that thinking, what did he _expect_ to happen, with Xander’s big mouth?

He weighed his options. He considered what Xiang wanted to hear. What did he want to hear? The truth?

And _fuck,_ Xander did know what the truth was, and it was scary. He had _feelings_ for Xiang. What they’d had before was fine, but he absolutely shot that to hell, now.

Did Xiang _want_ Xander to have feelings was the question. Xander glanced at the side of Xiang’s face, which didn’t reveal anything to him. One part of Xander, deep, deep down wanted Xiang to want Xander’s feelings. The practical part of him tried to quash that.

Above all though, Xander felt that Xiang didn’t want any more deception.

“Yeah,” Xander said finally. He saw the muscle in Xiang’s jaw twitch. He wanted to see his eyes.

The silence stretched between them, and it itched under Xander’s skin unbearably. Xiang was not happy, clearly; he was chewing over his thoughts, planning out a response. Xander braced for it.

“I know you lied.” Xiang let it hang in the air, ambiguous. Lied? Xander was about to protest but Xiang put his hand up, his shoulders tense. “You said you didn’t have a place in the city. You lied so I’d show you where I live.”

“Now, wait a second—“

Xiang cut him off once again. “First, you don’t have any luggage. Not even a backpack. I doubt you would’ve left that at the bar. Second,” he pulled out Xander’s hotel key card and held it up to eye level.

Xander mentally kicked himself as Xiang slid the card into Xander’s pocket and patted it. Xiang was regulating himself, keeping his anger at bay for the moment.

“You,” Xiang said, suddenly enunciating harshly and stabbing his finger into Xander’s chest with every item on his list, “talk about me behind my back, and you say things you don’t mean, and make dumb ass _declarations_ ,” he said, gesturing with the hand holding his cigarette, “and then you want me to--what?”

“Xiang, listen—“

“No,” Xiang said firmly, his lips pressed together in what he might call a pout if not for the cold anger in his eyes. “Get your clothes and get out.”

“I—“

Xiang’s hand clenched into a fist, a warning. “Get. _Out_.”


	6. Chapter 6

The walk back into the city let Xander really think about what had happened. Xiang had lashed out so vehemently, so angrily, had impatiently waited for Xander to dress before pushing him out the door. His walk of shame made him realize they’d walked to the cheaper part of town, where it seemed some affluent students and higher paid young adults lived.

He had good reason-- good /reasons/-- to be angry. It was true that Xander had been reckless and thoughtless when he'd talked about their relationship with Adele. It was true that he'd lied about the hotel room, even if he hadn't thought it was such a big deal. And given all of that, it surely did look bad that Xander would suddenly throw around the l-word.

But Xander couldn't forget the way that Xiang had sought him out, time after time. How Xiang was the one to kiss him so sweetly that night when he came to check Xander's wounds. How Xiang had diverted a flirtatious drunk Becky in a manner that Xander had to wonder about.

Xander knew he had a tendency to be full of himself, but he'd have to really work the case to tell himself that Xiang wasn't a little bit in love with him, too. Right?

So the anger and the hurt that Xiang felt that morning... it wasn't because he didn't want Xander to say something like that. He didn't want Xander to say it and  _ not mean it _ .

The thought made Xander ache. Xander was a lot of things, but he wasn’t so cruel as to just  _ say _ things like that. He wished he'd never said it at all. He hoped Xiang wasn't sitting in his apartment, smoking, and thinking Xander was that kind of asshole.

Xander thought instead to how Xiang had insisted that he hadn't come home, to Shanghai, because of Xander. He had his own life. Of course, of course.

But what did that mean? Something--  _ something _ \-- was stressing Xiang out. Something beyond Nicks and Tennyson walking in on them, beyond Xander altogether.

Xander’s phone had died sometime during the night, and the walk back to his hotel made him really think through the last few hours. Xiang was  _ hurting _ . To an extent, he could understand why all of what Xander had done and said in the last two days would make him wary, but if Xander were honest, he was hurt too.

Now, though, Xander was back to square one in tracking Xiang down. He got the idea that running into Xiang at another club would be turn out badly. Which, as far as the addresses he’d scoped out, left him with the apartment complex he’d observed the day before. It wasn’t the one Xiang’s apartment was in-- wasn’t even in the same neighborhood.

It was a mile a half from the apartment Xander was now entering. The elevator was jam-packed when it opened on the first floor, but only a handful of people got on with Xander. He pressed the eleven button, stepping aside for the others to press their own-- he’d usually just ask, but he didn’t want to test his Mandarin just yet.

Room 1174 wasn’t difficult to find, but once there he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do. Serena had told him not to ask for Xiang by name at any of these addresses. He steeled his nerves and rang the doorbell.

Xander didn't know what he was expecting from this little apartment. Maybe a gangster that Xiang had known once upon a time. Maybe an old lover, or an old boss. Someone Xiang knew in the military, or from some mission for Gibbons.

What he didn't expect was a middle aged man in a striped cardigan and slacks, reading glasses low on his nose.

Xander stared for a long moment, taking in the jowls and the wrinkles and reeling, trying to figure out just what the hell he was doing here. The man stared right back, brows raised and eyes wide, no doubt taking in the tattoos and muscles, the relatively outrageous clothes all the way down to Xander's leather combat boots. Despite what Serena had warned, Xander figured there was no harm in naming Xiang. There wasn’t anything else for Xander to say, anyway.

"I was wondering if anyone here knew a Xiang?" Xander tried, the possibility of the man not speaking English only occurring to him halfway through his sentence. The man, evidently not absorbing any of what Xander said, closed the door halfway to call inside for someone else.

A woman appeared beside him, then, and the man disappeared from the doorway. The woman, also middle aged but not nearly as wrinkled, was still not what Xander had expected either. She had gray-streaked hair, neatly pulled back in a bun. Barely over five feet, her tight slacks and fitted floral top in companion to her well manicured nails suggested she was dressed casually—probably a secretary or some other white collar worker.

"Hello?" she said, impatient as he sized her up.

"I'm looking for a Xiang. You wouldn't happen to know him?" Maybe Serena's address was outdated.

"Xiang who?" the woman said, crossing her arms and barely restraining her toe from tapping.

"Uh," Xander said, caught off guard by the woman's brusqueness.

"I think you have the wrong address, sir," she said sharply, bringing the door closer to herself on its way to close it.

Xander tucked his chin back, eyebrows raised at her abrasiveness. He turned to go before she even closed the door. It must have been outdated, or it was one of the places he  _ shouldn’t  _ have named Xiang.

He only got a few steps before he heard her swing the door wide open again. "Sir? I'm sorry," she said, calling after him. "I'm sorry, I might know your Xiang. Can you come inside?"

He pivoted slowly, unnerved by her sudden change of heart.

The woman stepped back to make space for Xander to pass inside. He eyed her stealthily, carefully taking in the welcome area of the apartment. There was natural light from a ceiling high window in the living room, toward which she gestured. She called down the hall the other way, and Xander thought he recognized the word for "tea."

She scooted him along to the living area, urging him to sit on the petite pink love seat. She opened a cabinet and dug through it, pulling out a file.

Now this was more what Xander was expecting.

She sat on a baby blue wingback chair across the coffee table from him, file on her lap.

"I take it you don't know who I am, then?" she asked, her demeanor transforming into one Xander was familiar with-- a demeanor not too dissimilar from Gibbons. Maybe... Xander wondered if that wasn't the type of contact she was.

"No clue," he said.

She nodded, hand running over the edge of the file she held. "I would make small talk, but..." A young man came into the room, maybe seventeen years old and wearing a school uniform. He set down a tea pot and cups. Xander observed him absently, noting his sharp jaw and slight build and the quick glance at Xander he stole before he turned and left again. “It’s for the best that we don’t get to know each other.”

Xander leaned forward in his seat to pour tea into both the cups.

"Tell me about this Xiang that you're looking for," she said as she took the cup offered to her.

"I think you've got an idea who he is," Xander said, eyeing her hands where they ran patterns over the file. "How about you tell me what you’re thinking?"

The woman frowned deeply at him, pursing her lips before she began to speak.

“My grandparents are from the countryside,” she began. A Gibbons style monologue, no doubt. “They had two children, my father and my aunt.” Xander sat back with his tea, settling in for the long run. “My aunt moved to the city when she could, got a job and married a man my grandparents hated.”

Xander nodded absently. Who was this lady, pushing him away in the door and then pulling him back and telling him her family history? He glanced out the window-- way up here, he saw across the street into the next apartment complex, their air conditioner out the window.

“They had a son, while my parents had my brother and I.” Her fingers thrummed on the file. “One day, my aunt’s husband disappeared. Never heard of him again. She sent my cousin on the train to live with us, said she would follow, and never showed.”

Xander furrowed his brow, now. She was fidgeting with the folder, curling a finger inside as if she were going to open it before pulling it back out.

“My cousin became my second brother. He was two years older than me. He never talked about the city, or his mother or father. He called my parents  _ his _ parents. All he talked about was wanting to become a police officer. When he turned eighteen, he joined the military and never came back.” She was speaking more quickly, holding the tea cup close to her mouth but not taking any sips.

“He was twenty six when he--” she cut off. She opened the folder, pulled out a photograph, studying it for a moment. “They told us there was a weapons malfunction.”

She held the photo up for Xander to see. Three young people-- a man with a square face and long hair, parted in the middle; the woman herself, younger, her hair long and pulled back in a pony tail; and--

Xiang, maybe twenty years old, wearing a baggy red sweater. His face was round and eyes wide. He was grinning, and he had his arm over the woman’s shoulders, his head tilted toward her.

Xander swallowed thickly, swallowed back the urge to stand and leave and also to snatch that photograph out of her hand and take a closer look. “So he’s dead,” he said, leaning back and putting on a casual cover. If she didn’t know Xiang was in the city, she shouldn’t know. Not from Xander. Xander’s mind raced, trying to piece together exactly  _ what _ was going on.

She put the photo back in the file. “That’s what we thought.” She sighed, looking out the window. “My older brother died a few years later, my mother after that. My father said she died of a broken heart.” She drummed her nails on the file again.

Xander was filled with the sudden, urgent realization that he shouldn’t be here at all. This was too personal, too close to a part of Xiang that he had kept neatly folded away from Xander’s eyes.

“What makes you think he’s the one I’m looking for?”

“Mister, your face gave it away.”

Xander raised a brow, took a sip from his tea. “You said it yourself, though. He died.”

“Ten years ago he showed up on my doorstep.”

Xander swallowed harder.

“He needed a ride to the airport. He had a gunshot wound. He told me not to tell anyone, and he gave me this card.” She took a business card out, holding it up. Xander could tell there was a number scribbled on it, but he was distracted by the insignia.

The triple X insignia.

“I saw your tattoo.”

He was stunned for a moment, too stunned to respond. “Okay, so I know your brother. Why do you think I’m looking for  _ him _ ?”

“He gave me this card, told me to call him if I needed him. If it was ever a real emergency.” Xander raised a brow. She continued, speaking faster. “Six weeks ago our Dad had a stroke. I called him, and I could hear someone pick up but no one spoke. I told him what happened—I’ve kept him updated; I don’t know if it was him who picked up but I hope it was.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “To be honest, I don’t even know if he’s alive or not. At least, I  _ didn’t _ .” She shot Xander a small and sly, if watery, smile.

Xander poured more tea into the cups.

“So is he here? In the city?” she asked earnestly.

Xander shouldn’t be here, and shouldn’t be answering her. No matter how her story made him feel, how it made him recount all the times he’d seen Xiang answering the phone, or seeming to consider  _ something _ . “ _ It’s not all about you, Xander;”  _ he’d said that the morning after that first time.

Xander’s mind reeled through the past six weeks-- was that about when their… arrangement had started? What did that mean? All Xander knew was that this was an intimate piece of Xiang’s private life, one that he should never have gotten himself into. This was more of a transgression into Xiang’s life than anything Xander had done to this point.

“Sir? Is he in Shanghai?”

He swallowed his tea loudly. “I’m not sure. That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He stood, hoping against hope that Xiang wouldn’t find out he’d come here. It explained so much-- it didn’t fix what Xander had done but it  _ explained _ .

“You’ll let me know if you find him?”

“I--” Xander waved his hand, turning toward the entryway. He heard the woman following him. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Sir-- please,” she said, almost frantic when he pulled the door open.

He paused in the doorway, didn’t dare look back at her. He could easily tell her the bare minimum-- yes, he’s alive-- but he didn’t know why Xiang didn’t tell her himself. There must be a reason.

Xander didn’t know a lot of Xiang’s reasons. He didn’t understand him nearly as well as he had thought.

“I can’t say.” He left it at that, stalked out into the hallway and hoped he could walk off the panic that had fallen on his shoulders—panic or guilt or whatever he was feeling.

He mulled over this new information distantly as he waited for the elevator. Xiang was—he was a  _ person _ , which Xander had known; he knew that every xXx agent was a person, just not so  _ normal _ . Maybe that wasn’t the right word.

Xander didn’t have family. Yelena hadn’t had family. Darius had a close circle of acquaintances, sure. But Xiang had— _ has _ —family. A sister and a father. Xiang had been raised alongside other children and he had left them. He faked his death, probably to escape his family and enter the nameless and faceless agencies that Xander had “died” in order to leave.

Adele had family. Hawk had family. Presumably, Serena and Talon had family, too.

There was a knot in Xander’s stomach that twinged at the thought of Xiang callously rebuking his family ties, but he couldn’t put a finger on why it mattered to him.

The elevator came and Xander entered it, dragging his feet ever so slightly. It was a hot day, he realized.

Xiang had come when he was called, though. His sister needed him and he came. That wasn’t quite cutting ties altogether. Xiang wasn’t that cold.

As the elevator approached the bottom floor, Xander turned his thoughts to what he was going to do next. He could go back to Xiang’s apartment, but that was obvious. He could try another night club, but Xiang could easily evade him there, as he’d seen the night before.

The pavement exuded heat right back from the sky, light reflecting painfully off of glass windows and car hoods when Xander reached the street. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and entered the flow of foot traffic toward his hotel.

Xander felt twisted up inside. Everything that happened the last two or three days suddenly piled up, compounding problem after problem. Xiang’s actions made sense—made sense as the actions of a man who was being made to confront a  _ lot _ : being contacted by family he never expected to speak to again, to confront the death of a loved one who believed him dead; being outed after god knows how long of living comfortably in the closet; and a love confession to top it all off.

Xiang was in a fight or flight mode (fight, flight or fuck, perhaps). That was the last thought he could really form before reverting to some kind of auto pilot, his feet guiding him back to his hotel room where he closed the blinds and sat, rethinking his approach.

Xiang was almost fragile, probably. Not that Xander liked to think of him that way. Xander remembered what state  _ he  _ was in after his aunt died, though, and fragile was one way of putting it. If Xander hadn’t already been open about his sexuality then, he could imagine the stress it would’ve added.

He sent a text to Serena, asking after whatever else she had compiled on Xiang over the years.

While he waited for her response, he laid back on the crisp, hard hotel bed. Xander had always been amazed by his ability to make a bad situation worse. Now, at least, he had a scope of just what was going on.

Six weeks, she’d said. Six weeks was just about how long he and Xiang had been sleeping together. That first morning after, he’d known something was wrong when he saw Xiang smoking on the banks of the river. He’d known something was wrong when Xiang came and sat beside him at the club, nervously bouncing his knee as Xander waited for him to make some kind of move.

The twisted feeling crawled into Xander’s throat the longer he thought about that. He tried to visualize the sequence of events. Xiang’s sister calls him, tells him that their father is dying. Xiang seeks Xander out and they sleep together. Fast forward a month and a half and, while Xiang’s been coping with the updates from his sister through Xander’s body, Xander has been falling head over heels for him. But in the end, maybe it really was just fucking.

No, that wasn’t what was happening. Maybe it  _ started _ that way, but  _ Xiang _ was the one who kissed  _ him _ . Xiang fussed over his wound and came over to play video games. That night, they just slept, arms around each other. That was more than just fucking.

Despite the heat trapped in his room, he felt like his lungs were full of ice.

There was no question in Xander’s mind that their relationship was more than just fucking.  _ Unless _ , as Adele had said, it was just an excuse. Unless Xiang just wanted the intimacy, and found a stupidly willing and intimacy starved body.

For the first time in years, Xander wanted a drink. He was thinking himself into a pit and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop.

He sat up, glancing over the silhouettes in his room—the bedside table, the lamp, his backpack he’d carried from Zurich—all backlit by the sun that stubbornly filtered through the blinds.

For his own sake, he needed to approach Xiang with more distance, lest he start constructing some reality of how Xiang felt without letting him speak for himself. After all, Xiang had wanted Xander—the Xander who confessed some grand love, the Xander who had stupidly allowed them to fall to bed when they should’ve sat down at talked, that Xander who thought he would approach Xiang as a lover—Xiang had wanted that Xander gone.

So now it was X, team leader who was checking on a stray team member.

With that settled, Xander went to the bathroom, threw some water on his face and went back to the scorching hot street to find a drink.

-

It was evening when he left the bar he’d found. He hadn’t drank too much-- he remembered how low his tolerance for alcohol was. Sitting in the dimly lit bar set in the basement of the building, low chatter creating a white noise was nice.

The sun was not as overwhelming as it had been, and Xander strolled back toward his hotel, observing the bustle of the midafternoon. He meandered, his stride not only confident but relaxed as it so rarely was. It was just about dinnertime and Xander had skipped lunch, he realized.

He hadn’t gone far in his search for a drink, and he’d spotted a street vendor selling something that smelled attractive, so he headed back in that general direction.

He could see the steps to his hotel, smell the street vendor’s goods when he glanced across the street at a bus shelter and stopped dead in his tracks.

Looking right back at him, cigarette in his hand and smoke rising in front of his face where he leaned against the bus shelter, was Xiang.

Xander was halfway up the block from a crosswalk, the traffic too thick to try running across. When Xiang dropped his cigarette butt and stepped on it, turning on his heel back in the direction Xander had come from, Xander followed, mirroring his pace on his side of the street.

Xander noted what he was wearing—a bright blue tank top and white shorts. Eerily easy to pick out of a crowd. He wanted to be followed.

At the intersection, Xiang turned away from Xander and headed up the intersecting street, leaving Xander to wait for a break in traffic when he could cross the street and follow. It gave Xiang a few hundred feet advantage, just short enough to keep him in eyesight.

A small plaza opened up ahead with a thicker crowd. The area was lined with vendors, some kind of open air evening market that had just set up. Xander scanned the crowd for the blue shirt and white shorts. He glanced down the street, thinking Xiang might have bypassed the market. Maybe Xander had hallucinated him, not realizing how hungry or thirsty he was.

But then he materialized on a bench in the middle of the market, halfway facing away from Xander so he could see his profile slumped on the bench, lazily bringing his lighter and a new cigarette to his mouth.

Xander squinted, forgetting how hungry he was to slowly approach him, take the seat beside him on the bench. He leaned back as well, mirroring Xiang’s posture.

Whatever Xiang had staged this all for, he was going to pull it out, milk the uncomfortable air. Xander admired Xiang’s techniques in most circumstances—right now, he felt cruel. Xander was buzzed, still relaxed, but the horrible guilty feeling he’d drank away was clawing its way back into his stomach.

But Xiang was going to wait until he finished his cigarette, Xander figured.

Shamelessly, he watched Xiang drag on the cigarette, the slight part of his lips when he exhaled. On principle, smoking was unattractive to Xander; but when  _ Xiang  _ did it…

He had to tear his eyes away and remind himself he was the  _ team leader _ and Xiang was just part of his team. He had to push away the feelings, whether emotional or physical. He had to steel himself not to let himself get hurt.

Even Xiang’s family matters were beyond Xander’s reason for being here. He needed to focus on smoothing over what happened just before Xiang’s fleeing. After all, when it came down to it,  _ that’s  _ what would mess things up for the team, if anything. Xander could deal with Xiang never speaking to him again, but he needed to make sure he could work with Nicks and Tennyson.

Xiang tapped off some ash on the edge of the bench, which was down nearly to the butt now.

Xander kept his eyes on it, like a countdown ticking off the seconds until Xiang turned to him and spit out what he had to say.

To ease the tension settling in the air, Xander glanced around the crowd. Some youths scooted by on a bicycle, knowing they were supposed to walk it through the pedestrian area. A handful of old women shuffled past with their finds from the market. Only a few passersby would glance at Xander and Xiang, and only fleetingly.

Until one woman took a few second’s glance at Xiang, and then another, stopping suddenly just feet away. Xiang did not notice her until she came much closer, grasping his shoulder and earning a bodily flinch before Xiang saw her face, relaxed with an uneasy glance at Xander. She was saying something at him, something like a name and words that Xander couldn’t follow.

She was a middle aged woman, Xander observed, her clothes loose and comfortable for the humid heat. Her hair was tied back with a bandana and her skirt fell midway down her calf. She wore comfortable black flats. Her clothes contrasted sharply against the clothes Xiang’s sister wore. Xander wondered who she was but carefully averted his eyes to let Xiang have a moment with her.

Whoever she was, she was beckoning Xiang to get up off the bench and follow her somewhere. A family friend, perhaps? Someone Xiang knew from childhood? Someone from his military life? Xiang’s kind if quiet laughter and polite decline gave no clue.

The woman was not satisfied by his refusal of her offer. She turned her attention to Xander. Her vice like grip took hold of Xander’s shoulder and arm and pulled him to his feet, which made Xiang’s jaw clench as he reluctantly stood as well.

“She’s an old friend,” Xiang explained, keeping up the polite smile. “She wants to give us dinner.” From his tone, Xiang didn’t want to go, but Xander could feel just how empty his stomach was. Emboldened by the little bit of alcohol he’d had, he shrugged. He looked at the woman and smiled, nodding. He should remember how to respond to her in Mandarin, but body language could suffice, he supposed.

Xiang, offended, masterfully hid his glare as he looked between the woman’s wide smile and Xander’s grin. The woman beckoned them to follow her, and this time Xiang begrudgingly fell into pace behind her.

“You know this will take forever,” he huffed. “She owns a dim sum restaurant. Do you eat dim sum?”

“Sure,” Xander said. He would eat anything. Better than having whatever conversation was about to unfold on an empty stomach. “Good place to talk.” He heard Xiang mutter under his breath.

The restaurant was only about two blocks away, and Xander wasn’t quite sure which direction his hotel was in anymore. Xiang took the bag of groceries she’d been carrying back to the kitchen, leaving Xander to pick a table. He chose one in the far corner, away from the early dinner crowds.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant by any measure. There was a napkin dispenser and a cup of chopsticks on the table, none of the chairs scooted in. It was cozy, though.

When Xiang returned, the woman happily brought over two cups and a hot kettle of tea, placing down an ashtray when she spotted Xiang’s lighter in his hand. Xiang thanked her with a wide, genuine smile; the kind that Xander had only seen in fleeting, private moments. She patted his cheek, asking him something in Mandarin.

Xiang answered, waving her off with another wide smile. She turned away.

Xiang’s face sunk back into his normal, serious composure as he turned back to Xander.

He let silence stretch for a long moment, patting the bottom of his cigarette box against his palm.

“First,” he began, his voice cold as ice, “you knew what bar I’d be at.” He put his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of his face. “And then you knew  _ her  _ address;” he need not specify. “What the hell are you playing at, Cage?”

Xander thought about lying for a moment, telling him it was a coincidence or that he’d just had a good hunch on both accounts. He realized, though, that deceit was exactly why he was in this predicament to begin with. “Serena gave me a list of addresses.”

Xiang’s mouth twisted into a crooked, displeased line. He took a sip of tea and clicked his tongue. “Of course she did.”

Xander couldn’t tell if Xiang believed him; it was a reasonable explanation, of course, but Xiang would be wary of anything Xander said. He didn’t  _ want _ to give credit to what Xander had to say, at the moment.

“Listen,” Xander said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table as well. “When it comes down to it, you are part of my team. When you disappeared, we were all concerned.”

A woman pushing a cart full of dim sum dishes wheeled up to them, interrupting Xander’s speech.

“Is there anything you don’t eat?” Xiang asked. Xander shook his head. Xiang listed off some dishes—some that Xander recognized with a vague sense of pride-- and the woman pulled each off th ecart. As the woman turned away, Xiang caught her attention to ask for one more thing, and the woman handed him a fork from a pocket in her apron. Xiang held it out to Xander with a small cheeky grin.

Xander took it with an unimpressed look and set it down beside the chopsticks he’d grabbed.  _ Now _ it was a matter of pride to eat with the chopsticks.

“Really, we were  _ all _ concerned when you  _ disappeared _ ,” Xander continued as Xiang busied himself grabbing a bun from one of the dishes. “Serena was concerned, Talon…” Xander trailed off, concentrating on pulling one of the dumplings off of the rice paper. “I was…”

Xiang glanced at him. “You were…?”

“Do I have to say it?” Xander said, partially being a smartass, partially pleading. Xiang scoffed.

“Alright, listen,” Xander said, face suddenly hot, as he finally managed to get the dumpling onto his plate, its thin wall breaking under the tight grip of his chopsticks. “I know I fucked up and I shouldn’t have talked about it, but I want to  _ fix  _ it and you’re being entirely unhelpful.”

Xiang gave him a long hard and slid a cigarette out of the pack and lit it between his lips.

“So you thought you’d show up, hunt me down from a list of addresses—not even knowing what they were-- and say some flowery bullshit and it’d all be fine?” he gave a humorless laugh. “You come digging into my life uninvited. Why? You think we’re boyfriends or something? Go to hell.”

Xiang bit into his bun, pointedly looking down at his plate. Xander watched him for only a moment before taking his first bite of the dumpling he’d shredded open. He mentally chastised himself— _ you’re here as X, idiot.  _ It was too late, though.

They ate in silence, a cigarette in one of Xiang’s hand and his chopsticks on the other. The only sound was that of eating, the dim sum carts unoiled wheels, and the light tapping of Xiang’s cigarette on the ashtray.

Xiang kept his eyes on his food, but Xander knew he was watching him peripherally. He watched Xiang anyway, unabashed.

His blue shirt was fitted nicely to his slender and built frame. One could see how strong his shoulders were just by how his clothes hung on him, outlining his physique.

He  _ had _ to be strong, of course; he was Triple X. He'd carried himself through hell his whole life, it seemed. And he would continue to do so, Xander be damned.

Xander wasn't used to this. He had flings or he had relationships that were based on how he could take care of the other-- at least the illusion of protecting them, saving them. Xander wanted the world to know who he was with while he also wanted to keep his loved ones safe and tucked away from the world.

But that wasn’t what he had with Xiang. They weren’t boyfriends, and Xander had known that all along. Xiang didn't care for being public, despised being “protected.” Xiang didn't need one damn thing from him, let alone a relationship.

Truth be told, Xander didn’t think he’d be able to protect Xiang if that ever _ was _ needed, anyway.

And god, Xiang could disappear-- disappear and not  _ let _ Xander find him. He’d be just fine without Xander, with leaving Xander behind. And that hurt like a  _ bitch _ to realize. Xander swallowed down against the way his throat twisted.  

Xiang reached for his tea, breaking Xander’s train of thought. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring straight at Xiang the whole time.

“How long are you here for?” Xiang asked.

Xander raised his brow. “I’m only here to find you.”

Xiang sighed, killing the cigarette in the ashes. He chewed over his words before saying, “You talked to my sister—you know why I’m here.” He laughed flatly. “She was never good at keeping anything to herself.”

Xiang was going to say more, Xander knew. And he knew that he should listen, that he should avoid pissing Xiang over any further. He just couldn’t stop himself from saying, “That’s why you faked your death.”

Xiang’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, its edges sharp. Of course the ‘weapon misfire’ was fake, but the look in Xiang’s eye made Xander regret bringing it up. Xiang took another cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, letting the question hang in the air for a moment.

A small smile cracked the hard corner of his mouth. “You would know about faking your death, huh?”

Xander nodded, conceding for a moment before he said, “I don’t have family.”

Xiang poured himself more tea and drank it down. Xander had the ability to recognize they needed to move on as Xiang pointedly stared at a spot behind Xander.

“I really want to smooth it over between you and the others,” Xander said, trying to ease into a more detached headspace.

Xiang waved his cigarette at Xander. “Don’t even talk about that.” He didn’t sound angry precisely, just displeased. Xander did not know how to interpret his flippancy of the subject.

“Are you not…” Xander trailed off, trying to decide how to ask. “What do you mean?”

Xiang took a long drag. “Not here,” he said simply, watching his friend at the cash register, seating patrons as they came in. “You can go if you want—she’s going to want to talk all afternoon now. If you’re still in Shanghai,” he took a drag from the cigarette. “I’ll contact you when I’m done.”

Xander hesitated. He should press the issue, wait until they could talk another place and make sure the issues got aired between them. It felt like Xiang was trying to slip between his fingers again. 

Xiang could disappear if he wanted, Xander remembered. 

But Xander had to choose-- push the issue now, or trust Xiang to reach out to him again. 

He didn’t like the uneasy feeling that settled in his chest when he stood, but he knew it was the best decision. When he got to the door, he glanced back once, finding Xiang still facing the other wall, exhaling a puff of smoke and tapping his cigarette on the tray. 


	7. Chapter 7

A few days-- just long enough that Xander started to wonder whether he should’ve trusted Xiang-- passed before Xiang finally texted Xander. He gave an address and a time-- it was another one of the addresses on the list that Xander had discovered to be a nightclub. Nine that night, then. 

Xander didn’t let himself consider what conversation was upcoming. Even walking into the club, passing the bouncer who eyed him up and down before nodding him through, he focused solely on spotting Xiang. 

It wasn’t difficult. The far wall was lined with curtains, some drawn to conceal the persons sitting in the booths beyond. Right in the middle, though, was Xiang. Xander crossed the floor quickly, taking the open seat opposite Xiang in the private booth. A waitress came by immediately, and Xiang ordered a drink without so much as a glance up. 

The waitress closed the curtain as she left. 

Xiang lifted his half empty drink, swirling it in his hand and taking a drink. 

Honestly, he looked like shit. It took a lot to make Xiang, who was effortlessly handsome, look like shit. Xander watched him carefully. It wasn’t difficult to put together what had happened, if the puffy dark circles under his eyes and sallowness of his cheeks indicated anything.

But Xander didn’t know if he was in a position to ask about his father, let alone comfort him. Xander didn’t know  _ what  _ position he was in, in relation to Xiang. 

The waitress returned momentarily to set down two clear drinks, one in a wide squat glass and the other in a flute. Xiang took the flute quickly. 

The music turned up suddenly, and more movement outside the curtain suggested that people were getting up to the dance floor. Xiang threw back the rest of his first drink and scooted the glass to the edge of the table for easier pickup. 

“How long have you been here?” Xander asked, figuring it was harmless enough. 

Xiang shrugged. “The music’s been getting louder since noon.” 

“ _ Noon _ ? Have you eaten anything today?” 

“I had breakfast,” Xiang said defensively, finally looking up to give Xander a bleary glare. 

Xander considered his words. “We should get something to eat.” 

“The food here sucks.” 

“We can go somewhere.” Xander edged toward standing up, but Xiang slapped his open palm down on the table and made him jump. 

“I just got this drink.” 

“I’ll pay for it,” Xander offered, trying to find the edge of the curtain to pull it out of his way.

“No.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Xander said. He found the edge, started to pull it back when Xiang’s hand shot out like lightning, taking his wrist and yanking it away from the curtain.  

“ _ I don’t want anything to eat _ ,” he hissed, and Xander fell silent. Xiang was pointedly not looking at him again, eyes on his glass. “Just drink your drink. I’m paying.” 

All the other times Xiang had bought him Sprite, Xander had reason to laugh. It was so ridiculous, for Xiang to order a liquor and Sprite-- not to mix, but one for each of them. This time, the humor felt hollow as he took an awkward sip. 

Even though he could feel the tension in the air thicken with his gaze, Xander kept his eyes shamelessly focused on Xiang. 

He watched him gulp down the new drink as Xander tried to keep pace with his Sprite. Finally, Xiang set down the empty glass and used his newly freed hand to rub over his face. 

The other day, Xander had mused on how Xiang didn’t look older or younger from his crow’s feet. However, today Xiang definitely looked older. 

Xiang planted his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together in front of himself and leaning his cheek against the back of one of his hands, looking at Xander. He cocked his head to the side and considered him. 

“I need to decompress.” 

"You have something in mind," Xander observed. It wasn't a particularly difficult observation. Of course Xiang had something in mind, inviting him here. 

"I have a room rented upstairs," Xiang said, returning Xander's smirk. There was a crack in his facade, though, in the way his lips stayed pressed firmly together, not revealing any of those pearly white teeth. His jaw was clenched, his brow set firmly. Xiang was much more tense than he regularly was when he propositioned Xander. 

"Of course you do. Does it have a mirror this time?" 

Xiang laughed humorlessly. "You'll just have to find out." He stood then, not even looking back to see if Xander was following him. 

In his gut, Xander knew it was a bad decision when he stood and tailed behind Xiang, following him up the steps and through bead-laden thresholds into the club's quieter back hall. 

Xiang pushed open a back staircase, the brick walls and cement stairs causing their steps to echo up several stories. 

Xiang led the way up the first two flights of stairs, Xander keeping pace a half step behind him. Halfway between the second and third floor, Xander had had enough of the silence that Xiang was keeping. He grabbed the tail of Xiang’s coat and pulled him up short, stepping onto the same step and putting a hand on the railing, crowding Xiang to the side. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Xander kept his demand vague, let Xiang determine what he meant-- the bigger picture of what Xiang was going through, or what they were doing right  _ now _ . 

Xiang, of course, took the question entirely his own way, surging into Xander’s space and pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. He only half missed Xander’s lips, his warm hand clasping the back of Xander’s neck. 

“Figure it out,” he breathed against Xander’s mouth. “My room’s on the next floor.” He pushed Xander’s arm out of his way and continued to the next landing, waiting for Xander to join him before pushing the floor’s door open. 

The hallway was nice, well decorated if poorly lit. Xiang’s door was first on the left, and he opened it quickly. The room, like the hallway, had a nice minimalist feeling, the lights set to dim when Xiang flipped them on. 

Xiang turned to Xander, pushing the door shut and grabbing Xander’s wrist. It was an odd move, Xander thought, too intimate for how Xiang had been pushing him away the rest of the trip-- until he was pulling his arm, pressing Xander’s hand to the center of his own chest and encouraging him to take a handful of Xiang’s shirt. 

Over the last month or so, Xander had learned to  _ do _ and let Xiang correct him later. So he took his handful of shirt and turned them, slamming Xiang’s back to the wall. He gave an appreciative grunt, one hand grasping at Xander’s shoulder. 

Encouraged, Xander crowded him against the wall, pulling the shirt higher. He pulled the edge up as high as it could go before he dipped his head, nipped at Xiang’s chest. 

As Xiang only gasped, arched his back, and made no movement to push Xander in any which way he wanted, Xander took that as free reign. Xiang had a great chest, and it’d been a long time since he’d been allowed to give it the attention it deserved. Resting his hands on his ribs such that they framed his pecs, Xander lathed his tongue down the defined line running down the middle of his chest. He circled one of Xiang’s nipples with a finger, teasing and feeling the soft skin pull tight. 

In the back of Xander’s head, he knew this wasn’t good-- Xiang was emotionally elsewhere, and besides, Xander had resolved to be  _ team leader X _ . He straightened, but only to kiss at Xiang’s neck instead. This wasn’t what a team leader would do, Xander berated himself even as he sucked at the pulse point where Xiang’s shoulder and neck met, drinking in the soft moans Xiang let out. 

He kissed up the chord in Xiang’s throat, teasing with teeth and tongue. Xiang planted his feet wide, leaning all his weight back against the door and laying his head to the side to give Xander open access. 

Xiang’s moans were tight around the edges, controlled in a way Xander should be wary of. Xiang wasn’t usually so noisy, but when he was, it was never this measured. Xander, following in his pattern of feigned ignorance that he’d neatly set up for himself, didn’t think any more of it. 

He kissed up to Xiang’s chin, found himself cupping his jaw and considering the way Xiang’s head was thrown back, brows furrowed and eyes stubbornly shut as he felt Xander’s gaze on him. 

This didn’t feel right. 

“Xiang…” Xander started cautiously. Xiang shook his head, screwing his eyes shut tighter. 

“Don’t think so much, Cage,” he tried to jibe, but still his voice was reigned back. “Just fuck me.” 

Xander pursed his lips. “Not when you’re not here with me.” Xander started to pull back, for once having some self control around Xiang. Xiang’s hands shot out, though, grabbing his shoulders and stopping him in his tracks. 

“What did you just say?” he asked, brows screwed together-- now in anger-- and nostrils flared. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Xander said, “But you’re somewhere else, bro.” He held Xiang’s intense gaze, not backing down, until suddenly Xiang was melting into something entirely else. His brows stayed pinched, but the anger drained out of his frame, his shoulders falling from their tight position that Xander hadn’t even noticed. Xiang frowned, looking lost for a long moment before he let his head fall back against the wall with a small smack. 

His grip on Xander’s shoulder loosened significantly, yet Xander didn’t pull away. He watched Xiang’s chest rise slowly before he let it out on a ragged sigh. 

“Xiang--” 

“You can go, then,” he said. Knowing how Xander would peer at him, he turned his face away, bringing a hand up to his face to inconspicuously rub at his eye. 

“I don’t have to  _ go, _ ” Xander countered, coaching his voice into a softness he’d never used with Xiang before. “Are you alright?” 

Xiang clenched his jaw. “I don’t want you to--” he broke off, continuing just above a whisper. “I don’t want you to see this.” 

Xander stared at him. His shirt was still pushed halfway up his chest, his jaw adjusting in the way it clenched and his knees locked so he didn’t shift his position against the wall. Pursing his lips harder and quirking them to the side, Xander fixed his shirt. Xiang batted his hand away weakly. 

“Fine,” Xander said. “I won’t see you.” He reached toward the door, right past the handle and switched off the dim lights. 

He felt for Xiang’s arms again, pulling him away from the wall and into a tight embrace. Xiang hesitated a long second, tensing in Xander’s arms, before seeming to fold into Xander, grasping at Xander’s back and tucking his nose into his neck. 

Something in Xander’s head, maybe the responsible part he’d been repressing, was trying to justify this to himself.  _ This _ was what a team leader did, taking care of their own.  _ This _ was possibly platonic, you see, because it’s what a friend would do. 

Wordlessly, they found their way to the bed, Xiang curling up to Xander’s side and fitting his face against his throat. His breathing was irregular, labored, but he was not crying. He ran his hand up and down Xiang’s back patiently. 

Xander still felt like he needed to be guarded, ready for the next outburst that Xiang would have. Not that he’d hold it against Xiang-- by all his observations, Xiang had more than enough on his mind.

Somewhere in his chest, the part that he’d gotten so familiar with when it came to Xiang, felt like it’d been tenderized, beaten until it bled for Xiang. An aching settled in his stomach, an aching that was somehow anticipatory. Of what, he didn’t want to think about. 

No, he pushed that all away. His concern right now was making sure Xiang was okay. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? We could order something,” he said, mentally tracking what pocket he’d put his phone in. 

Xiang just shook his head. 

“Do you want some water? You don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Xander pulled him closer around the shoulders, hand brushing over the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You need to take care of yourself, you know?” 

Xiang scoffed, jerking his shoulder against Xander's arm as if he were going to wriggle away. He didn't, of course, staying right where he was. He just had to be contrary for the show of it. 

Xander wanted to tut at him, make him understand what seeing Xiang in this state did to Xander. He had the urge like he'd never had before to wax something nice, something maybe even romantic. 

"Hey," Xander managed instead. "If not for you, then do it for me, alright?" He shifted away from Xiang, planning to find a glass and the sink, coax Xiang into drinking some water. 

Xiang let go entirely too easily, turning onto his back and glaring at the ceiling, lip firmly between his teeth. 

"You don't really get it yet, do you?" he said, his voice soft and sad. 

"Hm?" Xander asked, sitting up to look at him, thoughts of water taking a backseat. "Get what?" 

Xiang dragged a hand over his face, looking at Xander with an unimpressed raised brow. 

“You said it yourself,” Xiang started, his head falling to the side against the pillow so he could look at Xander. “I’m not ‘here.’ For anyone.” He threw his arm over his eyes. “All the time, I’m so fucking selfish.” 

Xander knew bait when he heard it. “How?” 

Xiang sighed, the sigh warbling at the cut off, just slightly. “I didn’t even know my mom died. You know that? I didn’t know my brother died. I wasn’t there-- I was off on  _ secret missions _ fulfilling my childhood dream of being a spec ops. You know, what I mean, Xander,” he said, smile visible under his elbow. “Getting the bad guys.” 

Xander let that settle in the air. There was more Xiang wanted to say, but he was holding it in. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“My dad died.” He said it bluntly, sharply. “Only family was allowed in. Chen--  _ ‘I’m _ ’ dead,technically. I had to sit in the hallway while my sister was in there and he was dying. I chose to be selfish, and there were consequences for my family. And then this…” he said, waving his hand between them. "C’mon, Xander,” he tapered off, encouraging Xander to fill in the blanks.

He just nodded, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. He felt his way to the little counter in the corner of the room, found a glass sitting upside down on it and filled it under the tap. In the oppressive silence of the room, he sat at the edge of the bed and held out the glass. 

As Xiang sat up and took it, slowly taking a drink despite his stubbornness, Xander took several measured breaths to clear his mind. 

"A lot has been going on with you," he said finally. "Tell me." 

Xander didn't need to see all that well to know Xiang was gritting his teeth before he replied. 

"What can I tell you that you don't know already." The words were laced with meaning, once again accusatory and sharp. It was pretty rich of Xander to finally sit down and ask Xiang what was going on after he'd done as much digging as he had. Fair enough. 

"Tell me how you're doing." 

Xiang sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm done in Shanghai, we can go back to the team tomorrow. I'll be fine." 

"You'll be able to beat some shithead's face in, sure. You can go back to the team any time, sure. But I want to know how you  _ are _ , Xiang." 

Xiang laughed drily. "I'm surprised you still call me that after all your 'investigating'. You know that’s not my name." 

Off topic. He was deflecting. 

"Of course it's not," Xander said. "You think Xander's my name? My real name?" He returned Xiang's laugh. "Don't change the subject, though." 

He caught Xiang off guard, he could tell. 

"Now, we need to talk.” 

A long pause. 

"Where do I start?" he asked, leaning over to place the glass on the ground before laying back on the bed. He sounded so lost. Xander poked his side, earning a hiss as he found that ticklish spot, and hinted for him to scoot over so Xander could lay beside him. 

The other night, they'd stopped short of discussing how he was outed to the team. "How about the team. Now they all know about... you. You said you were okay with that, though." 

Xiang hummed. "I was just mad at you." 

"Me?" 

"Talking about it and making it all personal." 

The tender piece in Xander's chest felt like it was sinking low in his ribcage, not quite reaching his stomach yet. 

"I'm sorry," Xander heard himself say. "I shouldn't have done that." 

"I might have overreacted," Xiang ceded. 

"I can talk to the team when we get back, before they see you. Make sure they don't hassle you or anything." 

"Who on our team would hassle me?" Xiang asked, his tone revealing his invisible eye roll. "Thank you, though." Xander supposed that was settled; he didn't know what to broach next. "Everything else..." Xiang said, obviously feeling the same uncertainty. His father? His sister? Xander's untimely and unfortunate declaration of love? 

Xander clenched his jaw when Xiang turned into him suddenly, his cheek against Xander's shoulder. He didn't move to touch Xander anywhere else, keeping the space between them oddly wide. 

"Don't worry about it," Xiang said brassily. 

"I do worry about it," Xander said, some kind of numbness in his chest making him bold. "Because I care about you." Even emboldened, he didn't want to see Xiang's reaction to the l-word again. 

"Xander," he said sharply, intoning his name like a warning. 

"What?" he challenged. "I want to know about you, you know? We're teammates." 

Xiang clenched his jaw again. "I've been a hell of a teammate," he said, a blend of anger and something else shining through in his tone. 

"What do you mean?" 

“That first night,” Xiang said, pressing into Xander to muffle his words against Xander’s shoulder. “She called me. I got drunk and I needed a distraction so I fucked you.” Xander felt a heavy weight settled in his stomach at the flippant way he said it. “I didn’t… expect it to happen again. I didn’t mean for anything to come from it.” He pressed his face into Xander’s neck.

Xander didn’t know what to say.

Xiang started to say something, cut himself off. “I didn’t expect you to think you love me.”

Xander couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to.

That tender bit in his chest and the anticipatory part of his brain shrunk from Xiang's words. The possessive flare that had become all but background in every interaction he had with Xiang surged. 

But physically, Xander didn't react. No matter how his pulse pounded or his chest ached to hear it, he wasn't surprised. 

Xiang pulled away, sitting back on his knees. His brows furrowed, biting his lip, he kept his eyes on his hands. “But now he’s dead. I don’t need you anymore.”

Xander sat up, resisting the urge to pull him back, to hold him close and assure him it was alright-- because it wasn’t.

“Listen,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and even. He leaned in so Xiang had to look at him. “We can go back tomorrow and-- and pretend none of this happened. We’re a team, shit like this can’t get in the way of that.”

“Yeah?” Xiang asked, his eyes still down, even as he mirrored the way Xander leaned toward him.  “Like it never happened?” 

“Like it never happened.” His head whirred, yelling at him to back away, to give Xiang space and to  _ get over it _ . It didn’t stop him from reciprocating when Xiang leaned in, wrapped his hands around the back of Xander’s shoulder and head.

He pulled Xiang up against his chest and laid back, arms around Xiang’s mid-back. Xander knew it wasn’t constructive to pour more of his feelings into Xiang, to pour it into the kiss that shouldn’t be happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. Not when Xiang was sighing under his lips, warm hand clasping Xander’s shoulder. 

 

-

Xiang was gone in the morning

-

Xander dragged himself down into the club for some finger food, at least. Watching the young people who didn’t have anywhere to go so early in the afternoon as they danced and sang karaoke, it kept his mind off of other things. 

Within an hour, Talon ended up forwarding him ticket information-- prompted, apparently by Xiang, as the itinerary mentioned two seats. It was for that evening, so Xander hurried back to his hotel, gathered his things and checked out.

It was well ahead of time, but with nothing else to do, Xander figured out the bus system to the airport. 

He got through security and found his way to the terminal easily. He kept his eyes open as he sat there, watching for Xiang. He had to show up eventually, and Xander wondered how it would be-- would he sit next to Xander, let them talk amiably, or find a seat somewhere else, pretending he didn't see Xander?

Either was equally likely. 

Xander knew he made a mistake by sleeping in Xiang’s room last night. It didn’t help anything, obviously. 

He took a deep breath. He had to stop thinking about it, learn to let it go. He knew himself, and he knew it wasn't going to be easy to move on when Xiang was still around. 

Still, the closure from last night felt weak. Nonexistent, even. 

Xander didn't  _ want _ to mistrust what Xiang said, but the state he was in last night, already feeling like he'd used and abandoned so many important people in his life, maybe overwhelmed by Xander's emotional forwardness the other night... Xander could see the urge to push Xander away as some effect from the fight-or-flight Xiang had been in the last few days. 

Xander could understand that. Stress made bigger pictures and self introspection more difficult to grasp-- he knew that feeling all too well. Xiang and him were too similar; maybe that was another reason he should just get over it. That kind of echo chamber couldn't be healthy. 

But Xander hadn't felt anything like what he felt for Xiang in a long time-- maybe he never  _ had _ felt this before, not really. 

Time flew as he brooded on this, and before he knew it the boarding process began. He swept the terminal again, still not seeing Xiang anywhere. 

Uneasy, Xander got into the lineup to board. He hoped Xiang didn't change his mind about coming back to the States. Maybe he decided he had more business here at last minute. 

Well, if he did, there wasn't anything Xander could do about it. He wasn't about to turn back from LA and try to find him again. 

If he remembered the itinerary Talon sent him earlier that day, Xiang was seated two rows ahead of him in the aisle seat. The seat was empty when Xander passed it. Xander scooted past the elderly woman (who very obviously gave him the old up-and-down look he so often got) and took his seat by the window. 

He needed to sort himself out, stop thinking over the what-ifs and how-abouts around his relationship with Xiang. 

They were friends, now, and that was the extent of it. They were teammates with a colorful history, and maybe they knew each other a little better than most teammates would. 

Still, as he waited for the familiar sunglass-wearing face to appear in the seat just a few feet away, he couldn't help but mourn the what-ifs. 

He should've suggested a picnic in Switzerland, back before he made everything so complicated. He should've asked to go on that hike with him. He should've spent all those nights in Xiang's hotel rooms when he could've. 

As more of the seats filled in, Xander had to tamp down the little bit of rising panic in his chest. Xiang would come-- he was just running late. 

The stewardesses came down the rows, shutting the overhead bins, probably reminding some of the people already seated to keep their tray tables up, backs of their seats upright or whatnot. Soon, no one was boarding anymore, and yet Xiang's seat sat empty. 

Xander breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the silk blue jacket appear at the front of the cabin. Xiang, shades in place on his nose and backpack slung over his shoulder, hurried to his seat, exchanging short words with the stewardess. He didn't even glance back at Xander before sitting. 

Xander needed to get over him quite badly, and yet he couldn't peel his eyes off the corner of Xiang's head he could see to give an ounce of attention to the safety procedures being explained by the stewardess. 

Xander needed to get over him, but he still couldn't stop wishing Talon had been able to seat them together. 

Xander needed to get over him, but he couldn't stop mourning those what-ifs. 

Really, it wasn't Xander's fault. How could he know that Xiang was so detached when he was kissing Xander, spooning up to him every chance he had, coming over to play video games. All these things, they just didn't line up with what he said last night. 

If Xiang said he wanted all these memories to disappear between them when they got back to LA, though, Xander wanted to respect that. 

Yet, Xander wanted Xiang to be made to understand, Xander was still going to care for him. Xander wasn't  _ tricked _ into loving Xiang. If it was anyone's fault, it was Xander's own. 

Xander turned on a mindless movie to take his thoughts off him. He had ten hours to burn before they arrived in LA. 

There, he was going to make sure Xiang meant what he'd said. 

-

Xander wasn’t usually the asshole to pushed ahead to get off the plane first, but this time, time was of the essence. He couldn’t let Xiang get out first or he’d never see him before their next mission together, no doubt. 

He waited in the terminal, locking eyes with Xiang as soon as he stepped through the threshold. Despite Xiang’s subtle attempt to put some of the crowd between them, Xander fell into step beside him, letting their silence last as he slowly physically steered them to the airport bathroom. 

Xander crowded Xiang into a stall, locking the door behind them. Xiang tutted at him, annoyed and already swinging his hand out toward the lock. Xander caught his wrist in a loose grasp, pushing it back toward Xiang.

“How are you?”

Xiang doesn’t respond, wresting his arm out of Xander’s grip. Xander let go easily. He steps forward, Xiang backing up until his backpack hit the stall wall. He stared back at Xander, defiantly silent.

“You don't wanna talk, that’s fine. I just wanna get some  _ closure _ , okay? Not when you’re drunk off your ass. You were off last night, and you were scared, I get it,” he said, smoothing his tone down as he could see the anger boiling up in Xiang’s posture. “I love you. Nothing’s changing that. It’ll bite me in the ass no doubt, but I can’t help it. Now, if you really wanna leave that all behind, you just say the word. Tell me ‘no’ or to fuck off, or hell, punch me in the face. I won’t ever bring it up again. But I need to hear from you now. I want to know you  _ really _ mean it, and it’s not liquor or adrenaline or anything else.” 

Xiang looked away, hand fiddling with the strap of his bag. Xander took a deep breath, all his assertiveness and confidence draining with the long silence Xiang gave him. It left him with just that feeling he’d mislabeled as possessiveness. He took another deep breath.

“With others I feel… I feel larger than life, or small or just out of focus.” Xander bit his lip for a split second before he said, “With you I just feel… like myself.” He had the urge to ask Xiang something, tell him maybe  _ don’t hurt me _ or  _ don’t leave me _ . Or  _ do you love me too? Is there a chance?  _ “It’s a scary feeling, and I get it if you’re scared too, if you feel that.” 

Xander couldn’t read Xiang’s face. He was grimacing, brows pinched above his shades uncomfortably like someone was stitching up a hole in his side. Yet, like always, Xiang seems to read Xander’s mind. Xiang swallows. “I…” He swallows again. “I can’t.”

He nodded slowly, pulling away. “I understand,” he said, keeping his voice cool and neutral.

“No, I mean--” Xiang grabbed Xander’s shoulder. “I mean. I don’t really do relationships.”

"That's," Xander clenched his jaw. At least he was being honest. "That's fine. I understand. I shouldn't push you. I move too fast, anyway. I get it. Don't worry."

"Xander, shut up for one second," Xiang snapped suddenly. "Just listen to me."

He pulled back, scrutinizing Xiang's face. The fucking glasses were still in the way. He pulled them off Xiang's face carefully, folding them into his hand. Xiang’s eyes were cast downward, dark bags no longer concealed. "Listen," he said. "I've never done this.” He looked around, anywhere but Xander's face, settling somewhere over Xander’s shoulder. He sighed. “You called my bluff, alright? I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve just never done relationships like this before.” 

Xander braced his hand flat on the wall again. He was trying to keep his hopes at bay and swallow down the giddiness, avoid getting whiplash if Xiang changed his mind again. He couldn’t hold back a grin, though.  "Let me try again," he said. "Could I buy you dinner?"

Xiang's eyebrows raised. "Dinner?"

"Like a date," Xander provided.

"If you make it into an ordeal, I'm leaving."

_ Won’t happen,  _ Xander was about to say, grin already spread, when his cell phone rang. 

Xiang raised a brow as he reached into his pocket, checking the caller ID. 

Nicks. 

“Hello?” 

“You finally off the plane? We’ve got a  _ situation,  _ man!” 

“What? Why didn’t you call earlier?” Xander 

There was shuffling on the other end, and suddenly Serena was talking. “Get the both of you to the Central District  _ now _ , I’ll send you the address.” 


	8. maybe one day

An Uber wasn’t the usual mode of transportation on missions, but it sufficed.

They found Becky’s van easily enough, and Hawk popped the back door open for them.

“Thank _god_ ,” Becky said, glancing back at them from her monitors, holding a headphone to her ear.

“What’s up, Becky?” Xander scooted into the area to her right, trying to make sense of what he saw on the monitors. Security cameras from an apartment complex.

“Our guy is trying to sell launch codes to an unknown buyer. We caught him in time, but Serena and Talon’s got him cornered in an apartment with _hostages_.”

Xiang scooted in to peer at the monitors, too. “What, he just went into a random apartment and held ‘em up?”

“No,” Becky said, pausing to listen to something over the headphones. “No, it’s _his_ apartment.”

“Well, what can we do?” Xander said, pushing the conversation forward so as not to be bogged down by the details.

“Serena’s keeping him busy talking,” Becky said, frantically typing some code into another monitor and bringing up a floor plan. “They’re in this apartment, on the corner south of us. If she’s giving me the right info, he’s facing away from the balcony, which is on the west side wall. If you can break through that balcony window quick enough, you might get the upper hand and surprise him.”

“That’s another window, on the south wall, right?” Xiang pointed out.

“Yeah…”

“Xander, you break through the balcony, I’ll get in that way right after you. Double surprise,” Xiang said with a sharp-toothed smile.

\--

They maybe should’ve gathered some more details before they broke in the windows from above.

See, Becky was blocking the guy’s wifi, preventing him from sending out the codes he was trying to sell. The roof of the apartment was out of her range. Therefore, he was using what he could to leverage his way to the roof.

Including using his wife and son as hostages.

Xander hadn’t had much time to absorb the situation after crashing through the window-- Talon was nursing his arm, Serena sitting in a chair near the door with her legs crossed, defiantly staring the target down. The target, whose son pressed back against the wall, held his wife around her shoulders, gun held loosely to her neck.

The suspect jumped back from Xander, who rolled to his feet. Serena took the opportunity to stand as well, cautiously moving to flank him.

Xiang crashed the second window not a moment later, spraying glass shards across the room. Serena ducked, covering her face, and Xander flinched hard away from the window.

A shot rang out. Xander refocused quick as he could, finding the target staring right back at him, wide-eyed. His wife was on the ground.

Faster than Xander could jump into action, the target was dodging toward the wall, grabbing his son by the scruff of his neck and hauling him through another door screaming.

Xiang looked between Xander and the woman, momentarily shocked, before gesturing for Xander to take care of the mess. Before Xander could protest, Xiang was running through the doorway after the man.

“Wait!” Serena called. She groaned in irritation and kneeled beside the woman, whose shirt was quickly covered by the swelling stain of blood. “ _Idiot_ ,” she muttered, “He’s the one who knows how to treat this shit.” She looked up at Xander, “Call 911. I’m going after him.”

She was up and running in a blink of an eye, leaving Xander with the woman and Talon, who’d apparently already been shot in the arm.

“Fuck,” he said.

“I’ll call,” Talon offered. “It’s just a graze,” he added, nodding at his bicep with the torn sleeve revealing the bloody mess. Xander nodded, taking Serena’s place beside the woman. She had dark olive skin, big brown eyes that went wide as Xander carefully pulled her shirt away from the wound.

It was a graze on her side. How the hell that happened, Xander had no idea. Talon was on the phone, so Xander had to get up and find the closest thing to a gauze that he could, quickly returning to her side. She was gasping, shaking. She flinched away from Xander, nervously eyeing the towel.

“Why did he do that?” she asked, voice rasping.

“It’s gonna be okay, I just need to get pressure on that wound of yours.”

She nodded, letting him press the towel into the hole in her side. She winced harshly.

“Does anything else hurt?” He roved over her body, looking for any other sources of bleeding. She shook her head, still shivering.

“Talon,” he called over his shoulder. “Find a blanket, she’s in shock.” The blood soaked through the towel, staining Xander’s hands. “And another towel! Careful of the glass.”  

Talon scrambled to a closet door, pulling it open to find spare sheets, grabbing one armful and hustling to Xander’s side.

A gunshot rang out in the distance, and someone screamed.

Xander grit his teeth. Xiang and Serena would be fine. The target was incompetent, not able to take out either of the two. He put more pressure on the woman’s side with the new towel, Talon wrapping a bedsheet around her shoulders and rubbing them.

The ambulance was coming, he could hear it through the blasted open windows.

Another shot. The scream cut off into a wail. It didn’t sound like Xiang or Serena.

Talon turned away, listening to an earpiece-- dammit, Xander and Xiang didn’t grab earpieces.

“That wasn’t part of the mission, was it?” Talon asked, taken aback by what he was hearing. He nodded, humming in affirmation. “Second floor, last door on the left. Yeah, send them up quick. We’ll meet you for extraction.”

There was shuffling out in the hallway, coming up the stairs. Medics stormed in the front door, and Xander moved out of their way, an uneasy feeling coming over him.

Xiang appeared in the doorway he’d disappeared through, a spatter of blood on his sleeve. The young boy, no older than ten now that Xander got a good look at him, was under his other arm, big hazel eyes taking in what was left of his apartment. Watching his mother being moved onto a stretcher. Another medic approached Talon, who waved them away.

Xander didn’t get a chance to ask Xiang what’d happened-- where the target was, what happened out on the fire escape. The boy trailed after the medics, and Xiang gave Xander a passing glance before following him out.

Serena crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame.

"What happened?" Xander asked. By her looks, nothing good.

"Xiang killed the jackass."

"What?" Xander was pretty sure they were supposed to bring him in alive. He wouldn't expect Xiang of anyone to disregard orders. Maybe it was accidental.

"Adele shot him in the leg once he was going up the fire escape, but Xiang caught up to him and shot him again." She tapped her long nails against her arm, beyond irritated. "Shot him in the stomach." She crossed the room to Talon, checked the graze on his arm.

"Boss doesn't usually go against orders," Talon said, raising his brows at Serena before catching a sidelong glance at Xander.

"I thought you going after him would, like, make things better," Serena said, voice accusatory.

"Whoa, whoa, listen: what Xiang does is up to him. I don't have anything to do with that!" Xander had expected a lot of things today-- maybe to be punched in the face, maybe for Xiang to cut all ties with him. He didn't expect to have to be defensive over shifting blame when _Xiang_ went and _killed_ someone.

"Well, you didn't piss him off or something?" Serena asked over her shoulder as she ripped a shred off the bed sheet they'd used to warm the wife up, wrapping it around Talon arm as he hissed.

"No!" He didn't think so? They'd left the airport on good terms, Xander thought. Better-than-expected good terms, even. "No, we talked it all out."

"Well, Xiang I know wouldn't take a fucking killshot on a target unless he was told to. Let alone with the target's kid right there."

Xander sat back on his heels. "Xiang's got a lot going on. Did he aim wrong and miss or something?"

"He was five feet away from the guy." Xander was about to respond when she put her hand up, silencing him. "Whatever; Gibbons will deal with it. He's sending an extraction team to pick us all up. We need to get down to Becky."

Xander followed behind Serena and Talon down the two short flights back to the street. The ambulance was already pulling away, and Hawk was sitting on the bumper of the van. "Anyone know why Xiang went with the kid in the ambulance?" he asked conversationally.

Serena pursed her lips. "He wasn't supposed to."

"Oh," he said.

"What the fuck does he have going on that he suddenly forgets protocol, huh?" she said, rounding on Xander.

Xander just shrugged, putting his hands up. "Gibbons will deal with it, right?"

His phone buzzed then. Speak of the devil, as they say. The caller ID came up blank.

"Hello?"

"Speak of the devil, huh X?" Gibbons said. "Get on into the truck, I'll gather stray operatives."

"Hey, he's not in trouble, right?"

Gibbons sighed. "We would have _preferred_ to have captured him, found out who his buyers were, et cetera. But sometimes a jackass dies. Collateral."

Xander grit his teeth and hung up.

"Well?" Serena asked, hands on her hips. Hawk was helping Talon climb into the back of the van without the use of his injured arm, already pulling open the floor compartment with the first aid kit. Becky was folding up various monitors for secure travel.

"Gibbons will take care of it," Xander shrugged. Xander himself didn't know what to think of that. He said he wasn't too concerned with the target being killed, but Xander remembered when he'd _said_ he was going to firebomb Anarchy 99, and let Xander take care of it himself. This wasn't some reverse psychology shit, was it?

"And what does that mean?" Serena asked pointedly. "Maybe it would've been better to let him stay in Shanghai."

Xander pinched his brow. "Jesus, you think Gibbons is gonna call a hit on Xiang? Serena, get a grip."

She threw her hands up.

"Whatever. Get in the van."

\--

They dropped him off a few blocks away from his apartment, and he meandered his way home. He stopped in a corner store, picked up a few items he was sure he didn't have in stock since he'd been gone for the past month or so.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he got to his door. Was he expecting Xiang to be there, waiting? Expecting a message left on the voice mail, with Xiang explaining he was at the hospital, that he'd come by later?

In any case, it felt oddly empty to come into his dark apartment, the dishes where he left them, the couch in disarray just as he remembered. No sign of Xiang, no sign of anyone trying to reach him.

He sat on the couch, considered turning on his TV to play Call of Duty, something to pass the time.

He wouldn't admit to himself that he was waiting for Xiang to turn up, just like he always would before.

They _had_ come to the agreement to try out this relationship thing, right? He'd gotten so many mixed signals from Xiang, in the past few days _and_ the past few weeks, it was hard to keep it straight. Xiang had agreed to go to dinner with him. That revelation still sent a shock through Xander's system, and he had to hold himself back from looking at a directory of local restaurants they could try.

Because, just like anything else Xiang said, that could be taken back at any moment. Xiang could skip out again, and Xander didn't want to be left hanging if that happened.

So Xander messed around, playing various video games well into the night and trying not to admit to himself that he was waiting for the knock at the door. At a quarter past one in the morning, he decided that, since he wasn't really waiting around for anyone, he should get some shut eye.

He wasn't worried about Xiang, anyway. Like Gibbons would take much disciplinary action against one of the best triple X operatives he had. It was unrealistic, really.

'Cause, too, there was no doubt that Gibbons knew what that would mean to Xander. He knew about Xander's trip to Shanghai, and if Serena and everyone else had figured out what was going on between them, Gibbons was not far behind (if he was 'behind' at all).

Even as he didn't worry, he couldn't quite fall asleep, either. He turned one way, turned the other, forced himself to shut his eyes and try to just wait for sleep to come.

He got up, eventually, and went for a jog.

Usually, the cool night air would calm him down, yet tonight it just made him antsy. He didn't think he'd stayed in Shanghai long enough to acclimate to the sound of the city, the humidity, yet...

The coolness of the night didn’t take his mind off Xiang at all, anyway. It sucked having to second guess every interaction with Xiang-- did he agree to dinner to get Xander to back off?-- but Xiang himself had admitted that he'd originally sought Xander out for less than altruistic reasons, making Xander second guess _everything_ the last two months.

No, no. Just because Xiang didn't show up at his apartment tonight didn't mean that Xiang's confession at the airport earlier that evening was less sincere. Even if Xiang wasn't tied up with the bureaucracy of having killed a target, he _killed someone_. Xander would need a night alone to deal with that, too.

Though, Xander had to wonder just how many people Xiang had killed, having been in the special ops and all. _I’m in this hospital bed_ , he’d said once. _Barely conscious, delirious. Drowning in my own blood_. That memory wouldn’t help Xander sleep; he pushed it back to examine another day.

He ended up at his apartment complex's door before he knew it. He took the stairs up to his floor, hoping to wear himself out and give himself time to think.

If Xiang meant it, about trying out this relationship thing, they'd need to have a long talk. 'Don't just use sex to make yourself feel better' being one bullet point. 'At least let me know when that's what you’re doing’ being the close follow up. Xander considered that for a second.

'Communicate how you're feeling,' might suffice in place of those two, he thought.

'No alcohol in my apartment,' would be a good one, too. 'Not a stockpile, at least.'

'Take a shower after you smoke if you're going to sleep in my bed-- I don't want the sheets to stink.' Xander chuckled at that.

Despite not being as satisfying as his usual nighttime run, Xander fell asleep quick after his shower.

\--

He slept in the next day, something he usually didn't get to do. Still, there was no word from Xiang or Serena or anyone else. Xander wondered where Xiang ended up last night.

He went out for a late breakfast-- closer to lunch now than anything-- and stopped by the local arcade. He'd been so busy the last month, with non-stop missions and traveling, that he hadn't brought himself to the arcade in a long while.

It was weird to come off of the busy schedule of a Triple X operative to suddenly have leisure time to himself.

He went grocery shopping, mostly stocking up on non perishables that would last if he went away again tomorrow, and greens that he could eat over the next day or two. He was sure he'd have at least _that_ much time in his apartment before he was whisked away again.

It was mid-evening when he finished putting away everything he'd picked up. He sat on his couch again, looking at his black television screen.

It felt too depressing to sit here playing video games by himself another evening.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling his contacts and trying to decide who would agree to drop by impromptu.

"Hey Adele," he said. "You busy?"

\--

Adele and Nicks arrived within the next half hour, Adele throwing down a bag of snacks and making herself comfortable. Nicks followed close behind her, immediately spotting Xander's stereo in the corner and checking for a cord to hook up his phone.

"Tennyson?" Xander asked, swearing Nicks had said he was coming too.

"Yeah," Nicks said, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch from Adele. "He's picking up Talon. Hawk's outta town I guess."

Xander raised a brow. No one had mentioned Talon, not that he was really complaining. "Talon?"

Nicks shrugged, reaching over to grab a can of chips from the bag Adele brought.

"Serena didn't want to come either," Adele added, hooking up her game controller.

Xander laughed at that. "No shocker."

Adele grinned. "Well, are you gonna get the game in or what?" she asked impatiently, bouncing a bit in her seat.

Nicks was preoccupied with messing with the playlist, opting out of going toe to toe with Adele and Xander in the game Adele chose, watching closely and hooting when Adele got in a particularly good shot. He got up and opened the door when Tennyson and Talon arrived, nearly forty five minutes after the first two.

"What took you so long, man?" Nicks asked Tennyson, punching his shoulder loosely. Xander looked over just in time to see Talon's grin as he raised his bag full of bottles and plastic cups.

"Thirsty?" he asked slyly.

"Hey, anyone gets drunk and I'm kicking your ass out. No space for someone throwing up in here," Xander called. He was half kidding, of course, but no one else laughed. Adele rolled her eyes.

"You just don't want me to beat your record after a few drinks," she goaded him.

"Like you could," he responded. "Seriously though, you spill that shit anywhere and you're not welcome back."

"We'll be careful, boss," Talon said cheekily.

"Hey, where can I put my coat?" Tennyson asked, peering over Xander's sparsely furnished apartment. There wasn't really anything other than a coffee table and couch in the living area, and bar stools in the kitchen.

"Uh, the guest bed. Down the hall, on the right. Bathroom's straight through."

The guys settled onto the couch, giving Xander and Adele room to move as they leaned into the game, each nursing their drinks carefully and chatting. Xander was pretty sure Tennyson and Talon had started watching conspiracy videos on Ten's phone by the time another knock came on the door.

Xander squinted over at Nicks. "Who else did you invite?"

Nicks frowned at the door, shrugging. There was already a flush on his cheeks from the alcohol. "No one, man. Unless Serena changed her mind."

Xander raised a brow, pausing the game. He got up slowly, the back of his neck prickling with the sudden silence in his apartment. He peered through the keyhole, and pulled open the door.

Xiang was there, his hair undone and jacket crumpled down the front. The bags under his eyes were still there from the day before, gaunt looking as ever. His eyes flicked behind Xander, raising his brows at the crowded couch with all eyes staring right back at him. He gave a halfhearted toothy grin, lifted up the six pack of beers for everyone to see as he shuffled past Xander.

"Well," he said to the room at large, which was still deathly silent. "I wasn't expecting a _party_ , but I brought my own booze, so." He turned to Xander, same forced smile pulling at his mouth. He went and set it on the kitchen counter beside Talon’s haul.

Adele locked eyes with Xander while Xiang was checking out what Talon brought. 'Should we go?' she mouthed, eyeing Xiang. Nicks looked like he'd sobered up just from looking at Xiang, eyes wide, expecting some kind of embarrassment.

Xander just shrugged, frowning. He didn't know what to make of Xiang, who was now cracking open a bottle and finding a spot to lean against the couch's wide arm, graciously ignoring the awkwardness of the situation as he inspected the mouth of the bottle.

Even Talon sat more rigidly, waiting for _something_ to be said.

"Uh, well, Adele and I are just playing. You wanna join?"

Xiang shook his head, swinging one of his legs casually.

"You know, I think I need to get going," Tennyson blurted out.

"Can you give me a ride?" Nicks asked. He turned to Adele, "We live closer to each other, less out of the way, you know."

"Oh, it's no problem. It's getting kind of late for me, too," she said, getting up to unplug her controller.

Talon just nodded in general agreement, getting to his feet, too. "I can get our jackets," he offered.

Xiang didn't move at all, just swinging his leg and taking a sip of his beer as the others scrambled to get going. Xander stood there too, observing Xiang’s posture and preparing himself for whatever comes after the door closes behind Talon.

Really, Xander was impressed how quick the team cleared out. Talon grabbed his bag of booze, leaving a can or two behind, no doubt something he knew Xiang would like, and Nicks grabbed his phone from the stereo before they all bid farewell and made a run for it.

So it was the two of them. Xander hesitated a second, standing behind the couch and considering his options as to approaching Xiang, before pouring himself a glass of water and sitting on the other end of the couch. Xiang slid off the couch arm and into the seat easily, hunching forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

"I figured we weren't quite done talking yesterday," Xiang said plainly. "You were talking dinner when we were interrupted."

"Yeah," Xander said. "Yeah I think that would be nice, right?" He winced at himself.

Xiang hummed. "Maybe we could try breakfast first." He said it softly, as if trying to glance off the suggestion there. The suggestion that he might spend the night, hang around in the morning. They'd never really _done_ that before.

"That sounds good," Xander said lamely.

Xiang's lips were pursed when he looked at Xander, the first time that evening he'd looked at him directly. He nodded with a small smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. He looked tired. Xander reached out, slow and cautious like he were reaching out to a cornered animal, and cupped Xiang's cheek.

Xiang looked down, not leaning into nor away from Xander's hand. His brows pinched together ever so lightly, and there was some hidden meaning, hidden depth in his eyes when he looked up at Xander again.

"What's going on?" Xander asked, gentle as he could.

"You asking about yesterday?" he asked, almost as a scoff as he came back to himself, leaning away from Xander, back into the plush couch cushions.

"Well, yeah. I think I mostly know what was going on up to that point," Xander said, his tone nearing joking even if there was nothing to joke about.

Xiang hummed again. "Let me drink a few of these and we can talk," he said, lifting his bottle.

Xander remembered what he'd been thinking about last night, about setting rules and talking about their relationship. Maybe he was too tired to understand the implications of his trail of thought-- was he thinking that Xiang would move in with him?

And... well, would he? An uneasy, squirming feeling blossomed at the back of his throat, settling just over his lungs.

He took a deep breath. He couldn't get too far ahead of himself. Not just yet.

"Do you wanna..." Xander trailed off, resting one of his arms over the back of the couch as a silent invitation for Xiang to come a little closer.

Xiang scooted over a bit, letting Xander's elbow settle over his shoulder but leaving a few inches between the two of them. He leaned his head back against Xander's arm.

"Well, for starters, Gibbons isn't all that mad about the dick I shot," he said, taking another swig of beer. "They cracked his computer, so he wouldn't have been all that useful."

"That's... good?" Xander commented. He really didn't know what'd happened the day before, but he wasn't sure how detailed of questions Xiang would answer about it, either. Before he could think of one to air, Xiang sighed.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Another swig. “Not yet.”

“Alright, we can talk about anything.” Xander grabbed the television remote, switching back to regular TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Xiang threw his head back against Xander’s arm again, tilting his head to smile at Xander. “How about an action flick.”

Xander opened the streaming app. “Alright, how about _Kill Bill_.”

“Oh god no,” Xiang groaned, shaking his head back against Xander’s arm.

“Uh... “ Xander went down the list, hoping Xiang would pick something out from it. “ _Mission Impossible_?”

“No.”

“ _Crank_?”

“No,” Xiang said again. He was staring at the ceiling, not even bothering to read the list.

“ _Crouching Tiger, Hidden_ \--”

“No.”

Xander frowned at him. “Come on.”

Xiang shrugged. “Something with more blood.”

“ _Blade_?”

Xiang scoffed. “No.”

“Alright. _Lucy_?”

Xiang peered at Xander sidelong in lieu of answer. “Just turn anything on, I don’t care.”

Xander figured they wouldn’t really be watching whatever he chose, anyway. _Sharknado_ it was. Xiang watched him click play, turned to him so Xander could see the displeasure on his face. Xiang rolled his eyes at Xander’s cheeky grin and leaned up to place his empty bottle on the coffee table. He grabbed another from the case at his feet (Xander didn’t even remember seeing him put it there) and sat back, twisting the cap off. He scooted in closer to Xander’s side, head on his shoulder.

Twenty minutes into the movie and just over halfway through the pack of beers Xiang had brought, and Xiang turned to press his cheek against Xander’s shoulder. Xander could feel how warm his cheek was through his t-shirt.

He said, "What happened to your parents?"

"My parents?"

"You said you didn't have any family." Xiang gestured behind Xander's back. "You said so back in Shanghai."

"Ah, I did say that." He’d forgotten he said anything. Xander gathered his thoughts for a moment, shifting his weight against Xiang. He’d never talked about this, really. Not for years and years. "There's not much to say, I guess,” he lied. “My father went to prison and my mom’s new boyfriend didn’t like me much so I moved in with my aunt.” He shrugged. “Aunt was old, died when I was twenty. So, like I said, no family.”

Xiang's hand rested on Xander’s thigh. He scooted in even closer, turned his face into Xander’s neck. He didn’t say anything for a long time.

“He didn’t like you,” Xiang repeated. “What, so you were a teenager?” he scoffed.

“Nah, I think I was five when they started dating.”

He could feel Xiang frown against his throat. “So your mom just left you?” Xiang asked, hushed. “‘Cause her new boyfriend didn’t like you?”

“It’s no big deal. It was better to live with my aunt anyway. Didn’t have to move around so much because she lived over the diner she worked at.” He left his statement vague, leaving Xiang to fill in the blanks, or not.

Xander remembered what Xiang’s sister had said. He leaned over and kissed Xiang’s hair. “We aren’t so different, huh?”

“My mother didn’t leave me,” he said sharply, still quiet. “I don’t know what _she’d_ told you but my mother didn’t just _leave me_.” He nuzzled in closer to Xander’s side defensively.

Xander squeezed his shoulder. Sore spot, he supposed. He didn’t know what to say, so he let it sit, halfheartedly trying to figure out what was happening in the movie now. Xiang also let the conversation fade.

Xiang rested his cheek against Xander's shoulder at some point, and Xander could tell without seeing that Xiang's eyes were closed. There couldn't be too much of the movie left, so he let it play out even as he didn't pay any attention to it.

As the credits rolled, Xander wasn't certain what he he was going to do next. Xiang had been really tired when he arrived, evidently not sleeping very well for the past few nights. A lot had happened recently, anyway. Xander didn't know if he should just let Xiang sleep here, or wake him up and move him to the bed. It would be more comfortable, definitely.

If Xander was able to move out from under Xiang, he could find a blanket and pillow for him. Xander quirked his mouth, squirming just a little to see how much work it would be to try to sneak out.

Xiang hummed and threw his arm over Xander's lap.

On second thought, Xander could just wait until he woke up by himself. There was no way that his position curled up at Xander's side was comfortable, so he couldn't stay that way for long.

Xander laid his head back against the couch. He may as well get comfortable.

\--

It was probably half past three before Xander woke up. It was too cold, and he peered at the black television screen, illuminated by the only light on in his apartment, the one over the door behind the couch.

It took him a moment to realize what was off.

Xiang was gone. Again.

Xander reached out along the couch, feeling for anything in his muddled tired state. The couch wasn't too cold, so he must've left in the last ten minutes.

"Damn it," he muttered, getting to his feet and stretching. "Damn it." What happened? He stalked into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of water and drank it down fast. He knew he shouldn't have gotten too attached to the idea of Xiang sticking around. It was irresponsible of him.

He set the glass down by the sink and grabbed a barstool to sit on. Something fell off of it, onto the floor in a black puddle of cloth. Xander reached down to set it back on its place on the stool, but found himself holding it close and scrutinizing it.

Xiang's jacket. No way would he have left this, right? Xander picked it up, felt the pockets, found a suspicious absence of a cigarette pack and lighter despite the wallet being in its spot in the inner pocket.

Xander internally face palmed. He laughed at himself and went to his room to grab a jacket.

Just as he'd suspected, he spotted Xiang sitting on the bench under the streetlight, a puff of smoke billowing above him.

Xander didn't take care to make his steps echo, to approach him at an angle so Xiang could see him coming. It didn't even occur to him until he sat beside Xiang, causing Xiang to jump. He didn't look at Xander though, just started at his shoes, his face somewhat frantic as he pointedly didn’t look at Xander, his hand not holding his cigarette furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. The profile of his face Xander could see was red, cheeks just barely puffy.

Had he been crying?

“ _What_?” Xiang said after the long moment Xander took to stare at him. “Why are you up?” His voice was rough, an unfamiliar instability that made it waver as it left his lips.

“I got cold when you left,” Xander answered honestly. “I thought you skipped out.”

Xiang didn’t respond, either too flustered or embarrassed. No doubt this was related to what they’d been talking about-- how vehemently he insisted his mother didn’t leave him behind. No way it was related to the mission the other day.

Unless those were both related, somehow.

Xiang leaned his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground and letting the shadow he cast conceal his face.

“I can go back inside if you want to be alone,” Xander offered, taking pity on his valiant efforts to cover himself.

Xiang shook his head silently, dangling his cigarette over his head. Xander interpreted that as a _Just a minute_.

They sat silently as he dragged on the cigarette, Xander looking away as he exhaled so the smoke wouldn’t be caught on the wind and blown into his face.

It wasn’t long until Xiang was dropping the cigarette under his heel as he stood, wiping his face with his forearm one more time before Xander followed him to the complex door.

Not a word was spoken before they were back on Xander’s couch, Xiang sheepishly moving his empty beer bottles to the recycling, if for no other reason than to keep his hands busy. Finally, he settled down on the couch.

“You wanna know why I whacked that guy?” Xiang started abruptly. His voice was still choppy, but his face betrayed nothing else. “His kid was screaming. He wanted his Mom.” Xiang’s fingers twitched where he rested his hand on his thigh, itching to mess with something. “Xander… I saw that kid and I saw myself. I couldn’t stop myself.”

Xander didn’t move or say a thing. He waited, giving Xiang a minute to decide if he wanted to elaborate. Xiang clenched his jaw, watching his hands as he flexed, opening them wide and curling them into fists.

“He left one day and my mother changed the locks on the apartment. We started moving around. I didn't get it at the time." He shook his head. “She bought me a train ticket to her parents’ in the country and said she'd come after, in a few weeks and I never saw her again."

Xiang rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t talk about this much,” he said as way of apology.

Xander shook his head, reaching out to grab Xiang’s hand, running his thumb in what he hoped were soothing circles. “I think that makes two of us,” he said. Xiang shot him a watery smile before continuing.

"I think my father... My aunt-- my mom-- called the tenant at the last apartment we lived at, and they said she ended her contract, but her stuff was still there so he sold it all. All our stuff that I didn't bring with me. She'd already bought a train ticket. They tried getting ahold of her friends-- one said they hadn't seen her for a few days and she wasn't answering calls. There wasn't any real proof to investigate, of course. But I know-- I know _he_ did something. She wouldn't just leave me."

Xander stroked his thumb over Xiang's hands.

“How is the woman, the one who was shot?” Xander asked, voice low.

“She’ll live,” Xiang answered, voice just as hushed.

He waited, not sure if Xiang had anything else to say. Minutes passed before Xiang pulled his hand away from Xander’s, running both of his hands through his hair and leaning back against the couch.

“So,” Xander started, remembering another piece of Xiang’s story that he wanted to slot into place. “Your sister said you always wanted to be a cop. Is that why? You wanted to… find your father? Hold him responsible?”

Xiang nodded, then thought better of it. “Shanghai’s a big place, you know? There was no body or anything to tie my father to a murder, and no amount of willpower in the world could’ve _found_ the jackass if he _had_ done it. I just wanted to… I don’t know, I wanted to stop that from happening to someone else.” He rubbed his eyes, his fatigue catching up with him again. “But I was so focused on that, on avenging my mother or whatever, that I didn’t pay attention to what I had right there. My let my real family down.”

He ran his hand through his hair again, pulling on the long strands that were customarily gelled up, looking at his feet again.

“Hey,” Xander said, turning to close the space between them. He grabbed Xiang’s jaw, made him look up at him. “No one can blame you for that. It fucking sucks, but it’s not your _fault_.”

Xiang swallowed. “I don’t wanna do that again.” Xander screwed his brows together, confused by the comment. “I mean, take what I’ve got for granted.” Xander continued to stare at him, confusion obvious on his face, as Xiang leaned forward to press his lips to Xander’s.

Oh.

Xiang smelled like smoke and beer as he pushed Xander back against the couch, languidly moving to straddle Xander’s hips. The kiss remained chaste, Xiang’s hands framing Xander’s jaw and cupping the back of his head.

Xiang leaned out of the kiss, keeping his eyes closed almost shyly. Xander reached out, cupping both of Xiang’s cheeks with his palms. Xiang glowed under the contact, a smile spreading over his face as he scrunched his nose.

Still, there was the closed-off feeling, the melancholy left over in the corners of Xiang’s face.

"Man," Xander said, gaining Xiang’s eyes finally. "Life's a bitch, huh?"

Xiang looked at him blankly for a long moment. In a second, there was a curl to his lips and a contradictory red puffiness around his eyes.

"Hah, yeah," Xiang said. "Look at us, two fucking sob stories, right?” Xiang barked a laugh in contrast with his words, a contagious laughter that had both of them laughing. Xiang’s hand tightened on the back of Xander’s head, Xander instinctively curling forward and pulling Xiang closer so they laughed in the same air.

"Jesus," Xander said through his laughter, trying to catch his breath. Xiang didn’t recover so fast, shaking in Xander’s lap so that Xander had to move his hands to his hips to keep him in place.

"You know, however much of an asshole you are sometimes," Xiang said, shoulder still shaking as he put a hand on Xander's chest, "you're a good man."

Xander was caught off guard by the sudden sincerity even as they grinned at each other. Xiang leaned his forehead against Xander’s.

“We’re really gonna do this relationship thing?” Xander asked, the air between them becoming subdued again.

Xiang’s smile softened, fragile like as he tilted his head to kiss Xander again.

“I mean,” Xander said against his mouth. “It’s gonna be a lot of work. And we gotta talk stuff out. Like," he looked at Xiang through slit eyes, "Like sex isn't the only uh, intimacy, you can get when you need, and--"

“Let’s talk in the morning,” Xiang said. His smile was fond now, as he climbed off the couch and held out his hand for Xander.

"Ah, yeah, sure. I’ve got extra toothbrushes and stuff.” Xiang laughed, shaking his head as he climbed off Xander's lap. 

It was strange, just how comfortable they were as they got into bed at 4am; Xander found that extra toothbrush, digging out an extra pair of sleep pants for Xiang.

Xander sat back on the bed, taking the side nearer the window, and waited for Xiang to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. When XIang appeared in the doorway, he shot Xander a tired smile before he turned out the lights and felt his way to the empty side of the bed.

He scooted in close to Xander. “Turn over,” he said against Xander’s neck, pushing against his hip. Xander went easily, turning away from Xiang so he could slide his arm over Xander’s stomach loosely, bowing his head to press his cheek to Xander’s shoulder.

“Some day,” Xiang said, words slurred around a yawn, “I wanna know your real name, Xander Cage.”

That old spark, subdued and soft, seeped into Xander’s chest. It wasn’t the sharp possessiveness that it was a month ago, but it was just as intense, like he’d swallowed a handful of fiberglass-- in a nice way. It made him just a little giddy as he laid his hand over Xiang’s on his stomach.

 _I love you too_ , he wanted to say.

“Maybe one day,” he said instead, not certain who he was saying it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone who stuck around for this fic! i'm pretty happy with how this came out.  
> right now i've got a prologue of sorts in the works, idk if it'll be another chapter here or a sequel, but it'll be here soon!!  
> dont forget to find me on tumblr (vaenire) :)  
> thanks again for reading and all of your comments!

**Author's Note:**

> come shoot me on [tumblr dot com](http://vaenire.tumblr.com/)


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